Stranger Things 2: A Novelization
by DaisyDaze111
Summary: This is the sequel novelization of Stranger Things. I do not own the characters, settings or plot lines. Once again, the dialogue and plots will all be the same, but I have added inner thought and descriptions to enhance the story. I tried to remain true to the character development and traits the Duffer Brothers created. Hope you enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_October 28, 1984 - Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania_

Few stars were visible over the skyscrapers of downtown Pittsburgh. Below on the roads street lights lit the walkways where people idled as a car passed every few minutes. Car horns blared throughout the city, but otherwise the night was quiet and uneventful. On a dimly lit road a dingy conversion van sat parked directly before a tall building along the right-hand curb. The driver inside wore a mask featuring some animal. The driver turned a full head of afro hair to the building on the right as the ringing of alarms sounded from inside. Four people, with faces covered by masks like their driver, sped out from the buildings entrance and ran down the steps to the sidewalk.

"Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Move it!" ordered one of the masked men who sported a Mohawk haircut with his hair arranged in spikes.

A woman's voice shouted from behind her mask, "Let's get out of here!"

The masked people climbed into the side of the van, hearing police sirens quickly approaching. After they were all inside, the Mohawked man slid the door shut with a bang, the curtains in the van's windows jostling. The tires squealed in protest as the vehicle lurched forward and swung around so that they drove on the right of the road in the opposite direction.

A police car raced in from a neighboring street, made a hasty u-turn and followed the van at full speed, their emergency lights flashing blue across the parked cars and buildings. A car coming onto the street from an adjacent alley jerked to a stop and the cop car swerved around them.

Inside the cab the officer transmitted over his radio, "Headed down Poplar, toward Main."

The van took a sudden right which the officer copied immediately, struggling to keep the car steady as he picked up speed and dodged around other drivers.

In the van, the criminals each removed their masks, including the driver who grunted in agitation as she threw her mask to the floorboards and placed her hand back on the wheel. Each of them wore concerned expressions, some with blatant panic, but the young woman sitting beside the driver removed her mask calmly and stared steadily at the road before her.

"Get'em off of us, Mick!" the Mohawked man yelled to the driver.

"I'm working on it!" she shouted back, and with that statement she slammed her foot onto the gas pedal, flooring it. The engine whirred with force and the van sped up.

"The alley. To your right," said the young woman riding passenger beside Mick.

"Okay!" answered Mick and without question she spun the van around the corner to her right.

The squad car pursuing them made to follow, but the officer had to slam on his breaks as a civilian's car blocked his way.

"Shit!" he yelled out in frustration banging his fist on his steering wheel.

Mick faced her own difficulties with the sudden turn as she found herself staring down into the bright headlights of an oncoming car.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

She jerked the wheel to the right and drove on the sidewalk to avoid collision. The van hit a hugh pile of trash and one of the fugitives in the backseat cackled with excitement and adrenaline. They sped down the alley coming out onto a dark street where there were no cops in sight.

"Okay, okay," Mick whispered to herself as she exhaled in relief.

The Mohawked man turned to stare out the back windows in time to see several squad cars, with flashing blue lights and sirens wailing, speed onto their street from either corner.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore. "We got more!"

"Oh, shit!" screamed Mick.

In the cop car, the lead driver informed over the radio. "They're headed down seventh!"

"Do something, Kali! Do something!" the Mohawked man yelled at the girl sitting beside Mick.

"Next right." said Kali turning to Mick. "There's a tunnel. Take it."

Again Mick nodded without question and when they reached the street Kali had indicated, she made the turn. The police followed them, the driver announcing to his partner excitedly, "We got those bastards now!"

With that the officer slammed his foot onto the gas pedal forcing the car to speed up.

Mick drove straight down the road, nervously waiting for more instructions as they approached the tunnel. The passengers in the back of the van watched anxiously as the police drew nearer and nearer. Kali however, closed her eyes and brought her right hand up before her, forming a fist. Then, she muttered, "Boom."

The cop following them watched as the van drove straight into the tunnel and he kept his foot on the gas knowing they could never outrun his sleek cruiser. Without warning the tunnel suddenly collapsed right over where the van had just passed and the officer jerked the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the brake.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

His sudden stop to avoid the disaster caused a pile up as all the other officers in pursuit braked and swerved to miss him. His unit was rammed from behind and his body was propelled forward.

"Shit! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" he screamed.

The unit came to a rest and the sirens blared before dying out as the passenger side officer turned them off to assess what had just happened. He turned to his partner and shouted at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Adams? The hell are you doing?"

Officer Adams stared blankly at his partner, but there was a ringing in his ears, and he could not make sense of the words being shouted at him.

"Adams! Come on! What the hell? Why'd you stop?" the officer yelled at his dazed partner. "Adams! Adams! Adams, I'm talking to you!"

Adams struggled to reach for the handle of his car door. As it opened he stumbled onto the ground before pulling himself upright, his partner still calling him from the other side of the car. The young officer stood straight up, feeling wobbly on his feet, and stared at the collapsed tunnel before him. However, his incredulous eyes saw only a tunnel that stood whole and undamaged. It made no sense to him.

At the opposite end of the tunnel, the getaway van continued onto the open road before them. The passengers riding backseat clapped and cheered their victorious escape from the police. Beside Mick, Kali stared straight ahead. She did not cheer or clap nor did she smile or exhale in relief. Instead, she simply raised the back of her gloved hand and wiped away a stream of blood dripping from her nose. On the exposed skin of her wrist was a small tattoo of the number '008'.


	2. Chapter 1 - MADMAX

**Chapter 1 - MADMAX**

Halloween tombstones decorated the yard of a small home in Hawkins, Indiana. The apparitions contained lightbulbs within so that they glowed orange in the darkness of the night. They featured ghosts, skeletons and pumpkins and even the phrase 'trick-or-treat'. In the sitting room of the neat home Dustin Henderson swore loudly.

"Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!"

He tossed the cushions of the couch he had been searching through aside, leaving them in a jumbled mess as he darted into the living room where his mother sat watching the nightly news, a purring cat nestled in her arms. Dustin removed the cushions from the sofa as the news reporter informed the viewership.

"A police chase rocked downtown Pittsburgh earlier this evening…"

"Another stupid penny!" Dustin groaned throwing the unwanted penny he had found in the creases of the sofa across the room.

"Dusty, watch it!" his mother whined. "You almost hit Mews."

"Can I please check under your cushion?" he asked her.

"Dusty!" she moaned.

"Mom please? It's an emergency!"

She moaned dramatically, which he mimicked, as she stood from her rocking chair patting Mews. Dustin rushed forward to look beneath the cushion.

"Who's your budda? Who's your budda? Budda, budda," Mrs. Henderson cooed to her cat.

With a wide grin Dustin held up a round coin pulled from the depths of the chair.

"Love you, Mom," he told her gratefully as he ran back to his room. He grabbed up his radio and transmitted, "Lucas? Lucas, you copy? I've got four quarters. What's your haul?"

Lucas retrieved his radio, a bath towel slung over his sweaty shoulder, and replied, "Take your puny haul and multiply it by five."

"How?" Dustin asked incredulously.

"While you were scrounging around like a homeless bum," Lucas answered. "I mowed Old Man Humphrey's lawn."

"Old Man Humphrey's got that kinda cash?"

"Just call Mike already."

"You call Mike."

Lucas shook his head. "I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out."

At the Wheeler's home no Halloween decorations had been put up, but a Reagan and Bush campaign sign was posted in the lawn for the coming election. Dustin's voice came over Mike's _Supercomm_ as he sat in the tent he had built the year before in his family's basement.

"Mike, do you copy? Mike, do you copy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I copy?" Mike answered with a guilty start.

Rather than relief at the prompt response, Dustin griped, "What the hell are you doing on this channel?"

"Nothing," Mike told him.

"Well, Lucas and I have six bucks total. What's your haul?"

A look of horror came over Mike's face. "S-shit! I don't know yet."

"What do you mean you don't know yet?"

"Just hold on! Call Will."

Mike shoved the antenna of his walkie-talkie down and jumped to his feet. Seconds later he was digging through drawers of underclothing in pastel colors. He saw something pink and yanked it out but saw it was only a dress slip. Shoving it back into the drawer he opened the next one, which contained darker outerwear. Buried beneath the clothes he found a pink piggy bank with the name 'Nancy' painted over the side in black letters. Strolling to the bed in the center of his sister's room, he pulled out the cork from the bottom of the bank and shook the container, emptying the contents onto Nancy's bedsheets. Mike, watching the quarters tumble out of the porcelain pig, failed to notice Nancy push open the door to her bedroom.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted.

Mike spun around and gaped at her then yelled, "I'll pay you back!"

He grabbed two fistfulls of quarters, shoved them into his pockets and dashed past her with a quick, "Bye!"

He ran before she could snatch him to pull him back, and when he got to the stairs he used the rails to propel him down the stairs, jumping past the steps, and landing on his feet.

Nancy thundered after him, hollering, "Mike! Mike! Get back here!"

As his children stormed past him, Ted called out, "Hey. No running in the house."

Karen looked up from beside Holly, who stood on a chair helping her mother with dinner, and yelled to Mike and Nancy, "What is going on?"

Neither sibling answered their parents as they ran into the yard.

"Mike! Mike!" Nancy screamed, but Mike climbed onto his bike and paddled away so that all she could do was watch his receding back. "Asshole!"

Mike did not give a backward glance and Nancy threw up her arms and let them fall to her sides in defeat.

* * *

It was a noisy scene at the local arcade store, with young people coming and going. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas rolled their bikes through the parking lot. They stored their bikes into the bike racks, then glanced up when they heard a car horn. They waved in greeting at Will Byers and his mother, Joyce.

"Hey!" they called.

Before Will could climb out of the car Joyce told him, "Okay. So I'll pick you up in two hours. That's nine o'clock on the dot, okay?"

"Okay. Okay," Will nodded.

"If anything happens, if you need to come home, just ask them to use their phone and call home. Okay? Don't-"

"Don't walk or bike home. I know. I know," he said impatiently, anxious to join his friends. He opened the passenger door, but before he had exited the vehicle Joyce called him back.

"Okay but sweetie."

"Mom, I have to go," he griped.

"Have fun."

With a smile Will climbed out and closed the door. He gave his mother one more glance then ran off toward the arcade entrance, Joyce watching him anxiously until she could no longer see him.

Several minutes later, the boys stood before an arcade game called _Dragon's Lair_, in which an animated woman with blonde hair, heavily shadowed eyes, and a provocative, sparkling black dress informed them in a sugary voice, "To slay the dragon, use the magic sword."

"Oh, Jesus! I'm in uncharted territory here, guys," Dustin fretted over the game controls.

"Down! Down! Down!" ordered Mike, Will, and Lucas as they watched anxiously.

Maneuvering the toggle Dustin shouted back, "I'm going! I'm going!"

The cartoon knight ducked on the screen before dodging the claws of a large dragon. A spurt of fire flew out of the beast's mouth and the provocative woman exclaimed dramatically. The knight ran across the screen and Mike, Lucas and Will cheered Dustin on.

"I'm going! I'm going! I'm going!" Dustin chanted.

The knight arrived beside a boulder containing the aforementioned sword.

Growing anxious over his friends' shouts, Dustin yelled back, "Okay. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!"

Unfortunately, despite pressing the button several times, the knight had just barely lifted the sword when he was engulfed by flames. The boys gasped and Dustin cried out as the character became a pile of bones.

"No. No. No! No! No! No! I hate this overpriced bullshit! Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!" Dustin hollered, punctuating his rage by hitting and kicking the machine.

"You're just not nimble enough," Lucas said smugly. "But you'll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine."

Lucas chuckled in his gloat and Dustin replied, "You know, whatever. I'm still tops on _Centipede _and _Dig Dug._"

"You sure about that?"

The boys glanced over to see a slovenly, pimpled teen named Keith watching them as he shoved cheese puffs into his mouth.

"Sure about what?" Dustin questioned him.

Keith merely gazed at him in amusement, and a look of horror crossed Dustin's face. Shoving past Will, he darted through the arcade.

"You're kidding me. No. No. No. Move. Move!" he pushed through the crowd as he searched for _Dig Dug_. "No, no, no, no, no. Hey, no! No! No!"

Dustin despaired as he read the list of champions the _Dig Dug _screen, his name reading as second place with a total of 650,990 points. Will's eyes traveled up to the point total above Dustin's.

"751, 300 points!" he exclaimed.

Mike shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible."

Dustin read the name to see who had taken over his first place position then turned to Keith, asking, "Who's Mad Max?"

"Better than you," came the reply. Dustin glared at him and flipped him his middle finger.

"Is it you?" asked Will.

Keith scoffed. "You know I despise _Dig Dug_."

"Then, who is it?" inquired Lucas.

"Yeah, spill it, Keith," Dustin ordered.

"You want information, then I need something in return," he glanced at Mike, giving him a sly grin as he popped another cheese puff into his mouth.

Dustin turned a pleading gaze on Mike who gaped, then shook his head.

"No. No. No. No way. You're not getting a date with her."

"Mike, come on. Just get him the date," Lucas said annoyed.

"I'm not prostituting my sister!" Mike shouted back.

"But it's for a good cause."

"No, don't get him the date," said Dustin. "Know what? He's gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to your whole family."

"Acne isn't a rash and it isn't contagious, you prepubescent wastoid," Keith retaliated defensively.

"Oh, I'm a wastoid? She wouldn't want to go on a date with you, cause you make, like, what? Like $2.50 an hour?"

"Nice perm," said Keith in an attempt to embarrass Dustin.

Dustin laughed. "Gonna make fun of my hair?"

Dustin and Keith kept on with their petty argument with Mike and Lucas watching in amusement. Will however became distracted as he noticed something strange occurring outside the arcade doors. He walked toward the entrance looking through the glass doors at the atmosphere outside. Thunder rumbled around the building and it appeared to be snowing.

"Hey. Hey, guys, do you see the-" he turned to ask his friends about the snow, but his sentence died in his throat when he saw that his friends were no longer there. In fact, he was all alone in the arcade. He peered around the games for a sign of anyone, but the building was deserted. Suddenly, the lights flickered off and the building became dark and cold. The game screens flickered with flashes of light and Will noticed dead vines covering nearly every surface in the arcade.

Will gasped at a deafening crash and he jumped around to see that the door to the arcade had opened of its own accord. Trembling from head to foot, his breath coming in pants, Will inched forward. Stepping out from the dead arcade, Will's terrified face stared up at the sky where billows of black clouds rolled over his head. The arcade sign spun and flickered. Thunder crashed and lightning split the sky, except the lightning was brightest red rather than blue, giving the sky an eerie, crimson appearance with each flash. Will watched in frozen terror feeling the presence of something...something...dark.

"Will!"

Will leapt in shock as he spun around to see Mike staring at him from beside the arcade entrance. The door closed behind Mike, shining and whole.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked.

Will glanced back at the sky only to see a cloudless night, several stars shining against the black backdrop. The arcade sign spun in place, the light steady and unblinking.

"Yeah, I just…" Will mumbled quietly as he backed away toward Mike, his eyes still scanning the sky for a single cloud or flash of red. "I needed some air."

"Come on. You're up on _Dig Dug_," Mike put his arm around Will's shoulder. "Let's take that top score back, huh?"

Together they re-entered the bustling arcade.

* * *

The next morning Main Street in Hawkins showed a town ready for the day. Bundles of newspapers were delivered to shops featuring a Halloween celebration. A jogger passed by festive window displays and early morning risers ambled down the sidewalks to work. The Hawkins' movie theater advertised the latest movie blockbuster, _The Terminator_, and Donald, the general store manager, swept the entrance of his shop clean from fallen leaves.

Outside of the police station a dark-haired, bearded man wearing glasses and a gray trench coat waited anxiously. The sheriff's truck pulled in the parking lot and Chief Jim Hopper climbed out of the cab, a cigarette between his lips.

"Good morning, Jim," the dark-haired man rushed to greet him. Hopper spared him one weary glance as he passed him without a word. "Jim. Huh, hold on a second. We need to talk."

"Get away from me," responded Hopper.

"Okay, no…" the man said, dismayed.

"Get away from me," Hopper said again.

"I really know you don't wanna hear this, Jim. Trust me."

He had to raise his voice to be heard over Hopper who replied in a sing-song voice, "Get away from me!"

"I only want five minutes!"

"Yeah, I want a date with Bo Derek. We all want things," piped Hopper as he entered the station.

Florence, the secretary, immediately waylaid him and snatched the cigarette from his mouth. He removed his jacket as the man continued relentlessly.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Jim. This is serious, okay? I really got something here I'm telling you."

Hopper groaned as he threw his jacket on the hat stand, and walked away.

"Hey, mornin' Chief," Officer Powell greeted cheerfully.

"Morning," Hopper muttered.

"Morning Murray," Powell glanced at the dark-haired man who had followed Hopper.

"Got any proof on your butt-probin' aliens yet, Murray?" Officer Callahan asked him. Powell laughed as Murray rolled his eyes.

Murray stepped aside as Florence shoved past him. She snatched the donut from Hopper's hand, of which he had just taken a bite. Hopper gave her a look of disgust when she replaced it with a bright green apple.

Murray went on, "I now believe there was, and may very well still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins."

His mouth full of donut, Hopper poured himself a mug of coffee as he repeated amused, "Russian spies!"

"Say Murray, are the Russian spies in cahoots with the aliens? Or how they fit in here? Cause I'm confused," chortled Callahan.

"I'm talking multiple reports now. Multiple reports, okay?" Murray replied. "Of a Russian child in Hawkins."

Hopper paused and glanced up at him. "A child? What are you talking about a child?"

"A girl who may have psionic abilities."

"'Psionic'?" repeated Powell, confused.

"Psychic," Murray clarified, annoyed.

"Hey, Chief what about that girl that made that kid pee himself?" Callahan asked.

"That was a prank," Hopper responded quickly.

"What girl?" Murray asked, his interest peaked.

"Wasn't a prank…" Callahan started but Hopper interrupted him with an agitated noise before planting himself before Murray.

"You got five minutes. Not a second more," he told him.

In his office, Hopper propped his legs up on his desk as Murray explained, "I talked to a _Big Buy _ex-employee who said some little girl shattered the door with her mind."

Hopper nodded. "I heard that story. Did you hear the one about the fat man with the beard who climbs down chimneys?"

Murray ignored him and continued as Hopper took a bite from his apple. "Then last month a co-worker of Ted Wheeler's claims some Russian girl with a shaved head was hiding in his basement. Ted now denies this."

Hopper pulled his feet off his desk and discarded the apple into the trash. Spitting the bite of apple from his mouth into his palm, he threw that away too, answering, "Oh wow. That's a surprise."

"But it connects."

"Enlighten me."

"This girl, she's some kind of a, of a Russian weapon, right?" Hopper followed along as he placed a fresh cigarette into his mouth. "Barbara she sees this girl, tries to help her perhaps. But before she can, the Russians find them, take them-"

Hopper interrupted. "W-w-wait. You're telling me that Barbara Holland was kidnapped by Russian spies?"

"Kidnapped. Killed," confirmed Murray as Hopper used his lighter to light the cigarette.

"Killed?"

"Don't you get it, Jim?"

Hopper shook his head. "No."

"This has potentially international implications. I'm talking a full-on Russian invasion right here in Hawkins!"

A whirring sound followed Murray's dramatic exclamation. Hopper was spinning the dial on the side of his typewriter back and forth with a bored expression on his face.

"Do you have any proof of this girl? I mean, has anybody seen her like, recently?" Hopper inquired.

Murray turned desperate. "No! But these are separate-"

The phone rang and Hopper quickly reached for it, saying, "Oh. Excuse me. Sorry."

"Okay," Murray muttered, disgruntled.

"Hello?" said Hopper in the receiver.

"Merrill called, wants you to check out his pumpkins," Flo informed him. Hopper took a drag on his cigarette as he peered at Murray while listening to his secretary.

"All right," Murray gave a little nod, knowing full well that Hopper was not taking him seriously.

"Says they've been contaminated…" Flo was saying. "By his vengeful neighbor, Eugene. You're welcome."

Hopper hung up and snubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk. "God, I'm sorry. I really hate to do this, but I gotta run. It's an emergency."

"You gave me five minutes," Murray protested as Hopper retrieved his sheriff's hat from the hat stand by his door.

"Yeah, listen, you know what?" Hopper stood before Murray as he confronted him. "I liked your alien theory a lot better. And you want my advice? Why don't you stop bleeding those people dry and go home? All right?"

"Look, I am not bleeding anyone...dry."

His tone more threatening this time Hopper replied, "Listen to me. Go home."

Murray watched as Hopper left him standing in his office.

* * *

Steve Harrington sat in the driver's seat of his car beside Nancy in the parking lot of Hawkins High School. Currently, Nancy was busy looking over his college entrance essay. He waited impatiently, reading the worst in her expression.

"It's crap, I know," he said with bitter disappointment.

"Uh, no, it's not crap," she said unconvincingly and she continued reading with consternation.

Steve shook his head. "It's not good.

"It's going to be," she smiled at him encouragingly. "Just...it needs some reorganizing."

Steve groaned and Nancy gave him an apologetic look then asked, "Can I mark on it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

Nancy pointed at one of his paragraphs as Steve leaned over to examine his work.

"So, in the first paragraph you used the basketball game versus Northern as a metaphor for your life, which is great," she told him earnestly.

Steve nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"But then, around here," she circled a spot in the second paragraph. "You start talking about your granddad's experiences in the war, and um, I-I-I don't see how they're connected."

"It connects because...because, you know, we both won," he answered as he struggled to remember the point he had been trying to make as he wrote the essay.

Nancy blinked and looked back at the essay trying to think of a kind way to tell Steve it just didn't work.

"Do you think I should start from scratch?" he asked doubtfully.

"No, I mean, I mean...when's the deadline?"

"It's tomorrow for early application. Can you come and help me tonight?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, we have our dinner tonight, remember?"

"Oh, my God!" Steve exclaimed exasperated when he remembered the gut-wrenching plans they had for the evening.

"We already canceled last week," she reminded him but looking up at his frustrated appearance she turned away and muttered, "You don't have to go. Just-just work on this."

"No. No. No. What's the point?" he said defeated and he snatched the essay from her and crumbled it up in his hands.

"Hey, calm down."

"I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm just being honest. You know. I mean...I'm just gonna end up working for my dad anyway."

"That's not true."

"I don't know Nance," Steve shrugged. "Is that such a bad thing? There's insurance and benefits and all that adult stuff. And if I took it, you know, I could-could be around for your senior year."

"Steve…"

"Just to look after you a little bit. Make sure you don't forget about this pretty face," he said.

Nancy chuckled and glanced away but he stared down at her looking for any sign that she was pleased.

"Nance, I'm serious." She turned back to him and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she told him sweetly.

The rev of a loud engine broke the moment and they both snapped around to stare out the dash window. Climbing out of the car, they looked about the parking lot as they heard tires screeching on the pavement. A dark camaro with a California license plate sped into the lot, loud rock music blasting from within. Once parked the driver door opened and a young man their age stepped out of the car. He was of medium-build with a strong frame and tanned skin. He was clad in snug jeans and a denim jacket worn over a light gray t-shirt. His brown hair hung in wavy curls to his shoulders in mullet-form and he had a ring pierced through his left ear. A cigarette hung between his lips. On the other side of the car a young girl of about thirteen years climbed out from the passenger door. She too had tanned skin, but rather than brown hair hers was a vivid ginger. She clutched a skateboard and without a word or glance to the driver, she tossed it to the ground, wheels down, and stepping onto it skated her way over to the middle school building.

The driver watched her go, then turned, threw his cigarette to the ground, and walked off toward the high school.

Leaning against another car in the parking lot were three girls, one of them being Carol, Tommy H.'s girlfriend. They watched as the stranger sauntered to the high school and one asked, "Who is that?"

"I have no idea," answered the third girl. "But would you check out that ass? Just look at it go."

She giggled and twirled her hair around her finger while Carol and the other girl stared appreciatively at his backside as he strolled away. Carol chewed her bubblegum absentmindedly, her interest peaked by the new attractive student Hawkins High School now had.

* * *

Will opened his locker to retrieve his morning class books, but paused when he noticed a folded paper sitting atop his notebooks. Someone must have slipped it through the vents of his locker. He pulled it out and opened it to find that it was a news clipping featuring the article titled "The Boy Who Came Back to Life". Over the article itself someone had written the word 'Zombieboy' and drawn x's over the eyes of his picture. He glanced up and down the hall, searching for whoever may have done it, but he noticed no one paying him any attention. The first bell rang so he crumbled the article in his hand and pulled out his books to head to class.

* * *

"Meet the human brain."

Displayed on Scott Clarke's desk before his class was a plastic model of a human brain. Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will all peered at it in fascination, but most of the class wore bored expressions with glazed eyes.

Mr. Clarke continued, "I know. I know, it doesn't look like much. A little gross even, right? But consider this. There are a hundred billion cells inside of this miracle of evolution. All working as one."

A student with curly hair wordlessly passed a note to the student behind him after it was passed to him. Toward the back of the class a little girl played with a fortune teller folded up from a sheet of notebook paper. Another bored girl blew a large bubble out of her pink bubblegum.

"No, no, I did not misspeak," Mr. Scott continued nevertheless. "I did not stutter. A hundred billion."

The bubble popped over the girl's lips and suddenly a door closed. The students all looked over to see Principal Russell Coleman standing before them and a red-headed girl beside him.

"Ah, this must be our new student," Mr. Clarke said cheerfully.

"Indeed, it is. All yours," confirmed Principal Coleman. Dustin stared wide-eyed at the girl and Lucas sat up straighter as he took in her tanned, freckled face and red hair.

The girl walked past Mr. Clarke's desk making her way to the empty desk by the windows in the last row, but she halted as her teacher called out, "All right. Hold up, there. You don't get away that easy."

He pointed to a spot by his desk, indicating that he wanted her to stand there. "Come on up. Don't be shy."

The unsmiling girl rolled her eyes and backtracked to stand where he had suggested.

"Dustin, drum roll," said Mr. Clarke. Dustin closed his notebook, then tapped out a quick drum beat with his hands. With great enthusiasm, Mr. Clarke addressed his class. "Class, please welcome, all the way from sunny California, the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage...Maxine."

He held out his arm to present her as Dustin finished his drum roll with a final thud on his notebook.

However, the girl shook her head and said, "It's Max."

"Sorry?" asked Mr. Clarke as Dustin's grin slipped off his face.

"Nobody calls me Maxine. It's Max," she clarified.

Lucas turned and whispered to Dustin, "Mad Max."

Mr. Clarke nodded. "Ah, well, all aboard, Max."

Having been introduced Max made her way over to the desk by the window. As she walked over Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will followed her progress so that when she sat in her seat she looked up to see that all four boys were facing the back corner of the class staring at her.

* * *

Melvard's General Store sported a festive autumn display of pumpkins and haystacks in the window display as Joyce sat serenely at the checkout counter sowing a _Ghostbusters_ logo patch onto her son's Halloween costume. The door to the shop's entrance opened, ringing the bell, and a stocky, graying middle-aged man entered. He picked up an orange pumpkin trick-or-treat bucket and greeted her.

"Hey there."

"Hey," Joyce replied, her face breaking out into a grin.

"Do you happen to have these in any other colors? I'm not a big fan of orange," he asked.

She frowned in contemplation as she set her sowing work on the counter. "Hmm...I'll have to check in back."

In the storage room at the back of the store Joyce was pressed up against a metal shelf with her arms wrapped around the man's shoulders as his lips moved passionately against hers. Her hands ran over the nape of his neck as she returned his kisses and he moved in closer to her causing her to slide back into the corner of the shelves. She reached out blindly to catch her balance and accidentally knocked an item to the floor.

"Oh, shit!" she giggled in exhilaration and bent to retrieve the item. "You're gonna get me fired."

"Well, that's my master plan," he responded. "Get you fired so I can hire you and we won't have to hide back here."

Joyce, who had put the box back onto the shelf, wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed him with a moan of pleasure.

"Bob?" she began as he rained kisses down her neck. "Bob, I have to get back to work."

"I know, I'm sorry," he admitted. I just I can't stop thinking about you. It's crazy, I feel like a teenager."

"Me, too," she confessed.

"You know, in high school, you didn't know who I was," he chuckled.

Joyce gave him a little shake and muttered, "Come on."

Overcome with his longing for her he kissed her again and she laughed.

"Bob, I have to get back to work."

He dragged himself away from her, nodding. "Okay."

"You go sell your electronic thingamajiggies and I'll see you tonight for movie night."

"Jonathan's night to pick?"

Joyce nodded. "Yes."

"Okay."

He kissed her again then stalked off as she watched him go with a warm smile on her face. But, when he looked back at her, he could not help rushing back to kiss her one more time. She laughed out loud.

"Okay. Okay," he mumbled. He gave her a little wave and pulled himself away and walked to the door.

"Okay," repeated Joyce amused.

"Hey, look, a green one," Bob pointed at a green trick-or-treat pumpkin bucket to which she smiled at. Before leaving, he turned and said, "Tell Jonathan not to pick anything scary. I hate scary movies."

She gave him a little nod and he stalked off, closing the door behind him. Joyce smiled at the shelves around her feeling lighter than ever before as if her joy would lift her into the air like a balloon.

* * *

Hopper drove down the long dirt lane to Merrill's farm passing a wooden sign with the painted message "Pick Your Own Pumpkins". Once he had met up with Merrill and listened to his complaint, Hopper allowed the farmer to walk him out into the field to take a look at his pumpkin patch.

"You're saying this was all fine yesterday?" Hopper asked doubtfully as he and Merrill walked through the field. He stared down at the rows of pumpkins, every one of which were black and rotting as if they had been sitting dead for months. A buzz of flies swarmed all around them, feasting on the remains.

"Fine? These were prize winners, Chief," Merrill said regretfully. "You should've seen 'em. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what happened. And then I remembered...Eugene."

Hopper paused. "What about him?"

"He's been complaining about me to just about anyone who'll listen."

"Why's that?"

"Well, he started this 'Pick Your Pumpkin' thing. Acted like it was trademarked. I said, 'hire yourself a damn lawyer. See how far that gets you,'" Merrill replied boastfully.

"You're - you're telling me that nice old Eugene came out here after dark and doused your field with poison?" asked Hopper skeptically.

"Well, not Eugene himself. I'm thinking one of his field hands."

"Uh-huh." Hopper groaned internally.

"Listen, Chief. I don't go throwing around accusations lightly. You know me. But this happened the day before Halloween when sales are peaking? That's a hell of a coincidence," Merrill pointed out. Hopper pulled out his hunting knife as he listened and drawing out the blade he used it to peer inside the remains of one of the dead pumpkins. "Hell of a coincidence."

Hopper looked up, past Merrill. He pointed at the grain field behind the farmer and asked, "You got somebody working on that field?"

Merrill turned to gaze back at it. Moments later Hopper stepped into the field and peered through the tall stalks of grain. He heard a twig snap and turned his head to search for the source of the sound. He whipped his sunglasses from his face for better visibility and stored them in his pocket. Then, he pulled his gun out of its holster and slowly made his way through the field. He heard rustling and flies buzzing all around him, and his heart rate picked up its pace as he scanned for signs of movement. His heart gave a lurch when he spotted something tall and dark and for a split second he thought it was a monster from the Upside Down. However, recognition came and he realized it was nothing more than a scarecrow.

Suddenly, there was a loud screech right by his ear and spinning around he saw something black fly straight past him to land on the scarecrow's shoulder. Hopper yelled out in fright, raising his gun and aiming at the would-be attacker, but he found that it was only a black crow. It cawed at him from its perch on the scarecrow's shoulder and Hopper glared at the bird in agitation as he panted with adrenaline coursing through him.

"Yeah, screw you, too," he answered the bird as he shoved his gun back into its holster.

* * *

Standing in the hall beside the entrance of a classroom a girl handed out bright, orange flyers titled "Tina's Halloween Bash" to fellow classmates as they exited their classroom.

"Hey. Be there," she told a student. The next flyer she handed out went to Nancy. "Hey Nancy."

"Hey! Thanks," Nancy said as she read the flyer. Then, she turned back to Tina and asked, "Oh, could I get one more?"

"Yeah, sure." Tina quickly handed over another flyer.

Nancy took it and pretended to look at it in concentration before pushing it against Jonathan Byer's midriff as he walked silently beside her.

"You're coming to this," she ordered with a smile.

"'Come and get sheet-faced'," he read. Smirking he told her, "No, I'm not."

"I c-I can't let you sit all alone Halloween. That's just not acceptable."

"Well, you can relax. I'm not gonna be alone. I'm going trick-or-treating with Will."

She flashed him a skeptical expression. "All night?"

"Yeah."

"No, no way. You're going to be home by eight, listening to the _Talking Heads_ and reading Vonnegut or something," she predicted.

Jonathan shrugged. "Sounds like a nice night."

"Jonathan, j-just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone," Nancy muttered as she opened her locker. Suddenly, she felt herself lifted into the air and she shrieked loudly.

Steve set her down, laughing and she turned and hit him.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "Take those stupid things off."

Steve removed his sunglasses. "I missed you."

"It's been like an hour."

"Tell me about it," agreed Steve and he kissed her passionately. Drawn into the moment she returned the kiss before pulling away.

"Okay. Okay, okay God," she chuckled.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Nancy turned back to her opened locker but looking down the hall she saw Jonathan walking away. She dragged her eyes from him telling herself she did not care.

* * *

"There's no way that's Mad Max," said Mike.

"Yeah," agreed Will. "Girls don't play video games."

The boys were standing behind a fence watching closely as the red-haired Max skateboarded on the pavement several yards from them during recess.

"And even if they did, you can't get 750,000 points on _Dig Dug_," Mike maintained. "I mean that's impossible."

"But her name is Max," Lucas pointed out.

"So what?"

"So, how many Maxes do you know?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't know."

"Zero. That's how many."

"Yeah," pitched Dustin. "She shows up at school the day after someone with her same name breaks our top score. I mean, you kidding me?"

"Exactly," nodded Lucas. "So she's gotta be Mad Max. She's gotta be."

"And plus she skateboards so she's pretty awesome," grinned Dustin with finality.

"Awesome? You haven't even spoken a word to her," Mike frowned.

"I don't have to. I mean, look at her," he looked back at Max but she was nowhere to be seen. "Shit, I've lost the target."

The boys scanned the lot searching for her when Will piped out, "Oh! There."

He turned to his left and walked away from the fence watching as Max walked up the steps attached to the school. They stared after her and when she had reached the top of the steps she threw something over the railing into the trash can on the pavement and headed inside the building. With a quick glance at each other the boys sped over, running past other students until they had reached the trash can. As Dustin dug through the trash looking for what she had thrown away, Lucas, Will and Mike, tried to look normal, waving innocently at other students who passed by while giving the four boys strange glances.

"I got it! There we go," exclaimed Dustin and he held up a crumpled sheet of notebook paper. He unfolded it as the boys leaned over his shoulder and they read it together.

"'Stop spying on me creeps'."

"Well, shit," Dustin commented. Mike grinned in amusement as they all stared blankly at the note.

"William Byers."

Will turned to see the principal standing behind them.

"You're mother's here."

Will's face fell and he said nothing. After making a stop by his locker Principal Coleman escorted Will to the school's entrance. As they walked down the hall students turned to stare at Will and he averted his eyes, feeling exposed, bared for all to see. When he had exited the building Joyce, who was waiting by the car, looked up and waved. He waved back, smiling and made his way to her.

"You guys think he's okay?" asked Dustin.

"He's always weird when he has to go in," answered Lucas. He, Mike and Dustin were standing at the corner of the brick building watching Will and his mother.

Mike shook his head. "I don't know. He's quiet today."

"He's always quiet," Lucas commented.

They watched as Principal Coleman closed the passenger door after Will had climbed into his mom's car. And they watched as she drove away.

* * *

Will watched the trees flash past his window, not paying them any particular attention, as his mother drove down the road.

Looking over at her son Joyce asked, "You feeling any better? Will?"

Will jerked from his thoughts. "Huh? Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Hey. What'd we talk about, huh?" she reminded him. "You gotta stop it with the sorries."

"Sorry," Will mumbled. "I mean I mean, yeah, I know."

"And listen, you know, th-there's nothing to be nervous about, you know," she told him. "Just-just tell 'em what you felt last night and what you saw. Hey, I'm gonna be there the whole time. So it's gonna be okay. Okay?"

She smiled at him.

"Okay," Will answered, unsmiling, as he turned to stare out the window again.

Joyce entered a parking lot and pulled her car up beside Hopper's truck, which he was leaning against while smoking a cigarette. He took a last dreg at the sight of Joyce's car then tossed it to the ground and turned to greet Joyce and Will as they climbed out of the car.

"Hey, buddy."

"Hey," said Will.

"Hey," Joyce offered wearily. Hopper let them pass and he followed them to the entrance of Hawkins National Laboratory.

Several minutes later, Will stepped up onto a scale wearing only his socks and a hospital gown. A nurse jotted down his weight then led him to an exam room where they tied a rubber band over his right bicep and, after sanitizing a spot over his vein, they drew a sample of his blood. On his other arm they placed a blood pressure cuff and pumped it up so that it squeezed his arm uncomfortably and the nurse listened to his pulse as she released the pressure. Then, she quietly took a red pencil and drew dots onto his forehead and temples. A technician taped electrodes over the dots and connected them to a complex machine which began to print a read out of his brain activity. Throughout it all Will remained quiet and numb, no longer anxious over the now familiar procedures, but merely tired. Finally, Dr. Sam Owens entered the exam room wearing his white lab coat.

"Sir Will, how are ya? Mom. Hop," Owens greeted the three of them with a chipper attitude. "Let's take a look, see what's going on here."

He sat on a stool beside Will as he looked over Will's medical chart. "I see you shaved off a pound since we saw you last. Must be making room for all that Halloween candy."

Will gave a nonchalant shrug.

"What's your favorite candy? Desert island candy, if you had to pick one?"

Will shrugged again. "I don't know."

"Come on. Life or death situation what would you pick?" Owens pushed.

"Huh, I guess, huh…" he glanced at his mother beside him, who mouthed, "_Reese's Pieces",_ and he told the doctor, "_Reese's Pieces._"

Owens nodded in approval. "Good call. Good call. I'm more of a _Mounds _guy, but I gotta say, peanut butter and chocolate, come on, hard to beat that."

He tossed Will's chart on the counter behind him then turned back to his patient. "All right, so tell me what's going on with you. Tell me about this episode you had."

"Well, my friends were there and then they just weren't," Will explained.

In a separate room Will and Dr. Owens could be heard speaking from a small security screen of which several agents were watching in silent concentration.

"...and I was back there again."

"In the Upside Down?" asked Owens.

Will nodded and the machine continued to print waves of activity from his brain.

"All right, so what happened next?"

Will stared at the ceiling as he remembered the events of the night before. "I heard this noise, and so I went outside, and it was worse."

"How was it worse?"

"There was this storm," he remembered vividly the crashing thunder and the red lightning.

"Okay…" Owens glanced up at the machine as the printing seemed to grow more erratic and he saw that the waves of activity were increased. "So how did you feel when you saw the storm?"

"I felt...frozen," Will replied, Joyce watching anxiously.

"Heart racing?" Owens guessed.

Will shook his head. "Just frozen."

"Frozen, cold frozen? Frozen to the touch?"

"No. Like how you feel when you're scared, and you can't breathe or talk or do anything," he described the feeling as someone who had experienced it many times. "I felt...felt this evil, like it was looking at me."

"It was evil? Well…" Owens cleared his throat. "What do you think the evil wanted?"

"To kill," Will said quietly. The printing of his brain waves was now an alarming pace.

"To kill you?"

"Not me," Will said with a small shake of his head. He looked at Owens. "Everyone else."

Over half an hour later Will sat alone on a bench in the hall outside the offices, now wearing his normal clothes and working on a sketch.

Owens sat at his desk across from Joyce and Hopper with a blue stress ball gripped in his right hand. "All right, I'm gonna be honest with you. It's probably gonna get worse before it gets better."

"Worse?" Joyce repeated, concerned. "He's already had two episodes this month."

"He'll likely have more before the month is out," admitted Owens. "It's called the Anniversary Effect. And we've seen this with soldiers. The anniversary of an event brings back traumatic memories. Sort of opens up the neurological floodgates, so to speak."

He wiggled his fingers beside his head, indicating the brain.

"So what does this mean for the kid, huh?" inquired Hopper. "He's gonna have more episodes, nightmares?"

Owens nodded. "Yeah, that. Maybe some personality changes. He might get irritable. He might lash out."

"Wh-what do we do when that happens?" Joyce wanted to know.

"Okay. Well, from what we know about post-traumatic stress...and we're still learning, okay? Just treat him normally. Be patient with him. Don't pressure him to talk. Just let him lead the way."

"I'm sorry, what you're saying is it's gonna get worse and worse and we're just supposed to pretend like it's not happening?" Joyce asked incredulously.

"It sounds counterintuitive, I know. But I assure you that is really the best thing you can do for him," Owens maintained. Joyce glanced at her lap doubtfully and Owens placed his stress ball onto the desktop. "Listen. I understand what you went through last year. I get it. But those people are gone. They're gone. Okay? So if we're gonna get through this, I just...I need you to realize I'm on your side. I need you to trust me."

Joyce shared a glance with Hopper remembering another scientist who had asked for their trust.

"'Trust me'? Are you kidding me?" Joyce repeated bitterly to Hopper as they followed several paces behind Will to their vehicles in the parking lot.

"Yeah, I know. But, you know, university gives out a degree, this guys got it," Hopper said tiredly. "And look, that post-traumatic stuff he's talking about, that stuff is real. He's gonna be okay, all right? How's uh, Bob the brain?"

Joyce frowned at him. "Don't call him that."

"Sorry. Old habit."

"He's good. We're good," Joyce said confidently.

"Good. I'm happy for you. Really. Hey…" he stopped her as she opened her car door to climb inside and she peered up at him. "Things get worse, you call me first. You call me."

Joyce smiled and nodded as she tossed her cigarette to the ground. "Okay."

She got into the driver's seat then backed out of the parking space as Hopper walked around his truck. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he took his first drag he looked up and spotted Dr. Owens watching him from a higher level outside the building. Owens waved at him, but Hopper simply glared back then turned and climbed into his truck.

A woman carrying several files in her arms sidled up to Owens and said, "They're ready for you, sir."

Owens nodded as he peered down at Hopper's truck. Then, he and the woman re-entered the lab and soon they were stepping out from a large elevator in the dark sublevel hallway that lead to a heavy metal door. Owens pushed through and they entered a control room with window walls overlooking a large, spacious laboratory.

Owens passed a technician, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Patty."

"Sam," she smiled.

A soldier in the process of putting on an aluminized heat radiation proximity suit looked up as Owens ambled over. "Afternoon, sir."

"Well, looks like another hot one today, huh?" Owens said in his chipper voice.

"Never gets old, sir."

A green light lit up on a panel and a set of sliding doors opened to allow the fully suited soldier to enter. He carried with him a four-pronged blowtorch attached to a tube connected with the fuel container which he carried in a protective casing on his back. The doors behind him closed and steam was released as the room was vacuum-sealed off. Then, the doors before him opened so that he could enter the isolated lab.

The soldier stepped forward into an atmosphere in which dead flakes floated in the air. He paced over to stand directly before the gate that led to the dimension now coined the Upside Down. The gate pulsed and glowed and Owens watched from the safety of the control room as the soldier powered the blowtorch and flames licked out at the vines of the gate. The vines jerked and shook violently, emitting a terrible screech.

* * *

From a safe distance several yards from the arcade entrance, Dustin and Lucas leaned over the hood of a parked car searching through the people coming and going for a glimpse of red-hair and tanned skin, Lucas doing so through a pair of binoculars.

"Still no sign?" asked Dustin.

"Jack shit."

Dustin groaned as he checked his watch. "Oh! Damn it. My mom's gonna murder me."

"So go home. I'll radio if she comes."

"Oh, yeah, nice try," Dustin replied. "You just want me outta here so you can make your move."

Lucas scoffed. "Oh cause you're such a threat."

Dustin grinned cockily. "That's right. She will not be able to resist these pearls."

He purred as he showed off his teeth. Lucas shook his head in disgust, then as Dustin looked toward the arcade he grabbed Lucas' arm and said excitedly, "Ten o'clock."

"What?" Lucas asked, confused.

"Ten o'clock!" Dustin pointed toward the arcade and realizing what he meant Lucas hurriedly peered through his binoculars to search for Max.

A sleek, midnight blue camaro sped into the lot outside of the arcade and screeched to a stop. The red-haired Max climbed out of the passenger door with a grumpy expression on her face. She turned around to face the driver inside the cab who was apparently yelling at her, though the boys could not make sense of what he was shouting or what she had shouted back.

"They're arguing. They're arguing," Lucas reported enthusiastically.

"Oh my God. I see that. I don't even know why you need those. God. You're so stupid," Dustin muttered in annoyance as he glared at Lucas spying through his binoculars.

He looked back up to watch as the driver began to speed away with the passenger door still open. Max slammed the door shut then held her middle finger high in the air for the driver to see if he looked in any of his mirrors. Finally, she ran into the arcade as Lucas and Dustin stared after her in bewilderment.

Inside the arcade music played over the speakers and Max played the game of _Dig Dug_ with such zeal that she did not notice Lucas and Dustin watching her from a short distance away.

Lucas turned to Dustin. "She's incredible."

They both slid down to the floor behind the counter where they were hiding and Dustin said with a dazed look on his face, "She's…"

They glanced at one another and with huge smiles said together, "Mad Max."

* * *

A sprinkler watered the Wheeler's lawn as the family sat around the dinner table, though Nancy was absent as she was out to dinner with Steve.

"After dinner, I want you to pick out your toys for the yard sale," Karen told Mike who was poking at his food dispassionately.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"Two boxes' worth."

Mike's looked up at her in alarm. "Two boxes?"

"You heard me," she told him severely. Beside her mother Holly leaned her head back to put a long string of ham into her mouth.

"I'm fine with you giving away a couple, but the other ones just have way too much emotional value," complained Mike.

"Emotional value?" Karen asked with amused disbelief.

"Their hunks of plastic, Michael," inserted Ted.

"You already took away my Atari," Mike pointed out, ignoring his father.

"If you didn't want to lose more toys, you shouldn't have stolen from Nancy," Karen reasoned.

"I didn't steal. I borrowed."

"Oh, and you didn't curse out Mr. Kowalski last week either, right? Or plagiarize that essay? Or graffiti the bathroom stall?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Everyone graffitis the bathroom stall."

"So if you're friend jumps off a cliff, you're gonna jump, too?" Ted inquired of him.

Mike closed his eyes wishing with all his might that he could yell back that he had already jumped off a cliff for his friend.

"Look we know you've had a hard year, Michael," Karen said gently. "But we've been patient. This isn't strike one. This isn't even strike three."

"Its strike twenty," Ted interjected. "You're on the bench, son. And if it'd been my coach, you'd be lucky to still be on the team."

Ted went back to cutting his ham and missed his son's confused frown.

_What was he about to be disowned_? Mike wondered sarcastically.

"Two boxes," Karen reiterated. "Two."

Mike stabbed moodily at his meat in retaliation.

* * *

Walking up the walkway to a one story home Nancy and Steve noticed a 'For Sale' sign posted in the yard.

"Okay. Ready?" Steve asked as they stood before the front door.

"Yeah," she answered feeling queasy.

Steve sighed. "Okay."

He rang the bell.

In the living room of the neat home a side table was filled with framed photos of Barbara Holland through the years, from a smiling little girl to a bright-eyed, red-haired teen.

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to cook," Mrs. Holland told Steve and Nancy as they sat around the dining table, which was spread with cardboard containers of chicken, mashed potatoes and biscuits from KFC. "I was gonna make that baked ziti you guys like so much, but I just forgot about the time and then before you know it, 'Oh my God, it's five o'clock.'"

Nancy shook her head and smiled. "It's fine. It's great."

"Right. I love KFC," nodded Steve.

Nancy hesitated then said, "So I noticed a 'For Sale' sign out in your yard. I-is that the neighbor's or…?"

Mrs. Holland looked to her husband, asking, "You wanna tell them?"

He gestured with his fork. "Go ahead."

With a smile she turned back to Nancy and Steve saying, "We hired a man named Murray Bauman. Have either of you heard of him?"

Nancy shook her head slowly as she looked at Steve. "No."

"No, I don't think so," Steve shook his head as well feeling clueless.

"He was an investigative journalist for the _Chicago Sun-Times_," she informed them.

"Pretty well-known," added Mr. Holland as he held out a business card with a picture of a bearded man in glasses to Steve.

Steve peered at it curiously as Marsha explained excitedly, "Anyway, he's freelance now, and he agreed to take the case."

"Oh that's...that's great," Steve said as he passed the card to Nancy. "No, that's really...that's great, right?"

He peered down at Nancy feeling unsure of what else he could say and hoping she would take over.

"Um, what exactly does that mean?" Nancy asked unsure.

"Means he's gonna do what that lazy son of bitch Jim Hop-" Mr. Holland began, but his wife shushed him and after a pause he said, "Sorry."

He took a deep breath then released it. In a far more calm voice he continued, "What the Hawkins' police haven't been capable of doing. Means we have a real detective on the case."

"It means…" Mrs. Holland added in a quivering voice. "We're going to find our Barb."

"If anyone can find her, it's this man," Mr. Holland said and his wife nodded. Nancy sat back in her seat uncomfortably, staring down into her lap. "He already has leads. By God, he's worth every last penny."

Nancy looked up in concern. "Is that why you're selling the house?"

"Oh, don't worry about us sweetie. We're fine," Mrs. Holland assured her. "More than fine. For the first time in a long time, we're hopeful."

She smiled happily, but Nancy peered back down at her plate feeling a wave of emotion bearing down on her. She did not know if she would cry or scream but she knew she could no longer sit there quietly.

In a stammering voice she said, "Excuse me. I'll be right back."

She rushed off and Steve watched her leave unsure what to do. Glancing back at the Hollands he picked up his chicken thigh and took a large bite.

"It's finger lickin' good," he commented.

"Mmm," Mr. Holland murmured in agreement as he and his wife nodded and smiled.

In the Holland's bathroom, Nancy leaned over the sink trying to steady her heavy breathing. She looked up into the mirror at her reflection, her eyes smarting and she noticed a picture frame in the corner of the mirror. In the framed picture was a photo of Barb. Looking to her left she stared down at her smiling friend on the counter, but it hurt to see that beautiful face so she turned the frame down. Then, she sat on the edge of the bathtub trying to master her emotions. Yet, the more she thought about Barb, and what had happened to her, and the fact that her parents were still clinging to the hope that she was out there alive somewhere, waiting to be found, her vain struggle to overcome her grief crumbled and she buried her face in her hands sobbing.

* * *

In his basement, Mike gave each of his toys a sulky glance as he tossed them into a cardboard box which his mother had labeled 'Yard Sale'. After discarding a stuffed monkey into the box he picked up his Tyrannosaurus Rex named Rory. He pressed its button and it let out a screechy roar. Setting Rory to the side he leaned down and picked up his model of the _Millenium Falcon_ that sat on the floor by his feet and he remembered Dustin's attempt to see it fly via Eleven's powers.

And just like that his thoughts were once again consumed by El. He turned and stared over at the tent he had put together for her the year before. He hesitated, but then he set the Falcon down and strolled over to the tent. He sat on the blankets and picked up his radio. Raising the antenna and pressing the transmitter button he called out to her.

"El, are you there? El?" Static answered. "It's me. It's Mike. It's day 352, seven forty p.m. I'm-I'm still here. If you're out there, say something. Or give me a sign. I won't even - I won't even say anything. Just...I wanna know if you're okay."

He released the transmitter again, but again he only heard static. With a sigh, he shoved the antenna down, muttering, "I'm so stupid."

He dropped the radio on the blankets and stood up from the tent. As he stalked away however, the static crackled over the radio again and a quiet, distorted voice said his name over the radio. He gasped and ran back snatching up the device just as his name rang out again.

"Hello, is that you?" Mike transmitted excitedly, his heart pounding.

"Yeah, it's me, Dustin. What're you doing on this channel again? I've been trying to reach you all day. We were right. Max is Mad Max," Dustin announced excitedly as he road his bike home from beside Lucas.

Feeling incredibly disappointed Mike grunted, "Yeah, I'm busy."

He shoved the antenna down once more cutting off Dustin's next transmission. He stared mindlessly at nothing in particular feeling angry and hurt, because for one small second he had thought El was back. It was like losing her all over again.

* * *

"What do we do now?" Lucas asked.

"We stick to the plan," Dustin replied.

"Mike's not gonna like it."

"Last time I checked, our party is not a dictatorship. It's a democracy," Dustin said somewhat grumpily.

"What if Max says no?" Lucas fretted.

"How can Max say no to these?" Dustin smiled and purred again.

"I told you stop that," Lucas chuckled.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Dustin called as he swerved up a lawn to his right.

"Later."

Reaching the front of his house Dustin climbed off his bike and leaned it on it's kickstand. He was headed for the front door when he suddenly heard a chirping sound. He turned searching for the source. Thinking it might be their cat he called out.

"Mews!" He made a kissing noise, but no cat appeared and after a moment, when the chirping did not sound again, he turned back toward his house thinking it was a bird or some other animal. Not until he had entered the house and closed the door did the trash can by the garage shake as something moved from within.

* * *

Joyce looked up from the popcorn she was making on her stovetop to see a camera aimed at her.

"Stop. Stop," she said with an awkward smile.

"What?" Bob asked innocently. "Come on, you gotta get used to it. This is the future."

"Well, put the future down and get me a clean bowl," she told him waving the camera away. Bob lowered the video recorder and turned on the spot wondering where he might find a bowl.

In his bedroom, Will worked hard on a drawing he had started earlier in the day at the lab. In it were dead trees and a grotesque character with a bowl haircut like his. He had written the name 'Zombie Boy' on the page. There was a knock on the door and he looked up to see Jonathan enter.

"Hey, bud. I uh, didn't know what you'd like, so I got a variety," said his older brother, holding up three VCR tapes which he then placed on Will's dresser. "Take your pick."

"Whatever you want," Will shrugged in annoyance returning his attention back to his drawing.

Jonathan paused, then said, "All right."

Figuring that Will would open up about what was on his mind when he was ready, Jonathan sat on the bed beside him and glanced at the sketch he was coloring.

"What are you working on?" Will did not respond, so he looked over the top of the notebook and read out, "'Zombie Boy'? Who's Zombie Boy?"

Will's eyes danced up staring at nothing in particular before he looked back to his drawing.

"Me," he replied.

"Did someone call you that?" Jonathan asked, frowning in concern. When Will did not answer he said, "Hey. You can talk to me. You know that, right? Whatever happened. Will, come on, talk to me."

"Stop treating me like that," Will snapped.

"What? Like what?"

"Like everyone else does. Like there's something wrong with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mom, Dustin, Lucas. Everyone," Will spouted in frustration. "They all treat me like I'm gonna break. Like I'm a baby. Like I can't handle things on my own. It doesn't help. It just makes me feel like more of a freak."

"You're not a freak," Jonathan said quickly.

"Yeah, I am. I am," Will told him forcefully.

He returned to his drawing as Jonathan looked to the floor in thought. It was obvious this had been building up in Will. That he had been feeling like this for months, maybe all year, since coming back from that dreadful place. No one would want to be treated like they were somehow incapable, especially someone who had managed to survive an entire week in the Upside Down while being hunted by a man-eating monster. To Jonathan, Will was braver and stronger than anyone he had ever known.

"You know what? You're right," Jonathan pushed himself up onto the bed, crossing his legs into a pretzel as he sat facing his brother. He told him sharply, "You are a freak."

"What?" Will peered up in surprise. He had not expected Jonathan to agree with him.

"No, I'm serious. You're a freak. But what? Do you wanna be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else? Being a freak is the best, all right. I'm a freak."

"Is that why you don't have any friends?"

"I-I-I have friends, Will," stuttered Jonathan, suddenly feeling attacked.

"Then why are you always hanging out with me?"

Jonathan thought for a moment. "Because you're my best friend, all right? And I would rather be best friends with Zombie Boy than with a boring nobody. You know what I mean? Okay, look...who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers?"

Will pulled a face. "Ugh."

"Exactly. It's no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?"

"Well…" reasoned Will thoughtfully. "Some people like Kenny Rogers."

"Kenny Rogers. I love Kenny Rogers," said Bob popping out of nowhere outside Will's door. He chuckled then noticed Will and Jonathan's smirks as they glanced at one another. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," said Will.

Bob noticed the tapes on Will's dresser and picking them up he read the title of the top one.

"Mr. Mom," he whooped excitedly. "Perfect!"

As he left the brothers broke down laughing.

On the television screen, a man wearing a plaid apron, cleaning gloves, and goggles tossed a soiled diaper into a garbage bag via a pair of tongs. He turned to the children on the screen.

"Where's Mommy keep the extra diapers?"

Bob and Joyce laughed at the comedy as Jonathan yawned in boredom. Will ate his popcorn feeling content.

"Hey!" the movie character called after the kids. "Cowards."

Again, Bob and Joyce laughed in amusement, and Joyce glanced lovingly at Bob beside her enjoying his presence more than the movie. Suddenly, the phone rang and she jerked around in alarm.

"Hey. It's okay. Let it go," Bob told her gently. "Probably just a crank call."

Joyce nodded, though the phone still rang.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Let it go," he said, holding her hand. He faced the screen again and he burst out in laughter at the debacle the character was dealing with.

However, Joyce could no longer enjoy the film as she tried to force the ringing from her mind as well as the way it made her feel so powerless.

* * *

A technician sat alone in his seat in the sublevel control room of Hawkins' Lab. He wore headphones over his ears and was listening to loud music as he tossed a ball at the wall. It hit the wall with a thud and bounced back at him. He caught it and repeated the activity. Lost in his music and his game, he did not immediately notice the lights begin to flash and the machines beeping. Before long however, an alarm blared loudly so that the technician heard the noise over his music and he turned to find the monitors going haywire, his ball dropping to the floor when he did not catch it. He removed his headphones and stared in fear and confusion.

* * *

Late that night, the Byers' home was quiet with everyone having gone to bed. The lights remained on throughout the house, something they had been doing all year. It was a comforting thought that the lights would warn them if anything came near. The kitchen faucet had also developed a leak, and the clock's dial turned ticking away the seconds, but these were all normal sounds to Will who took no notice as he walked out of his bedroom to go to the bathroom.

After relieving himself he turned the sink on and began to wash his hands. However, a new noise sounded over the small home and he shut off the sink as he froze to listen. Opening the bathroom door, the sound grew louder and he realized it was thunder, but he knew there had been no storm in the forecast. He inched toward the front door and as he did so he saw flashes of red through the tinted window.

Then, the door slowly creaked open of its own accord, revealing a terrible storm outside. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed red over black clouds. Wind blew dead leaves across the frozen ground and Will stood and watched in horror. A feeling washed over him causing the hair on his neck and arms to stand on end. A feeling that something was staring straight back at him. Something so horribly evil it was unmatched in this world.

Despite his fear he was compelled to walk outside and he did so mindlessly. Stepping out onto the porch he found himself back in the Upside Down, his house shrouded in hideous vines and the red lightning racing across the black sky like some grisly light show. But as he stared up into that vast storm he saw the form of a large, shadowed and tentacled being. Then, very distinctly the domed head turned in his direction and Will's eyes widened in terror.

* * *

Deep in the woods, Hopper drove his truck through a clearing. Coming to a stop he shut the truck off and grabbed a flashlight to use while trekking through the woods. After a few minutes he reached a spot where, when he aimed his flashlight's beam on it, he could see a thin wire stretched low between the trees about a foot from the ground meant to keep intruders away. He carefully stepped over the wire then continued on to the cabin straight ahead, where a dim light glowed from within.

He made his way up the old steps, opened the screen door and tapped out a rhythmic knock on the wooden door. From within the door's latch was unlocked and he let himself in. A small television played a tune on the floor and he switched it off as he looked around, but he saw no one. He strolled into the kitchen removing his belt and gun plus holster, setting them onto the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, then paced over to the small dining table where he found a plate of waffles half-eaten on the surface.

"Hey, what'd we talk about?" he called.

"No signal," answered a sulky voice.

"What?" he asked, confused as he sat at the table.

"No signal. It's eight-one-five. You're late," the voice told him angrily. A door opened and Hopper looked down at his covered dinner plate uncomfortably.

"Yeah, I lost track of time. I'll signal next time, all right?" He explained. "Uh, and it's uh, it's eight fifteen, it's not eight-one-five."

His voice turned to a normal talking volume as Eleven joined him across the table. Her hair had grown out from her buzzed cut into dark curls over her ears and she wore a light gray sweatshirt under a pair of denim overalls.

"Eight fifteen," she repeated carefully.

"Now, what'd we talk about?" Hopper asked again as he rolled up the sleeves to his uniform shift. "Dinner first, then dessert. Always. That's a rule. Yeah?"

He leaned down as he addressed her, staring directly into her eyes. Eleven nodded.

"Yes."

Satisfied, Hopper turned his attention to his dinner and El followed suit. She removed the aluminum foil from the plate and passed it to Hopper who took it and his and threw them into the trash behind him. As he ate his food he watched her eat, feeling glad to be back home.


	3. Chapter 2 - Trick or Treat, Freak

**Chapter Two - Trick or Treat, Freak**

"_Goodbye, Mike."_

_It was the last thing Eleven remembered saying before turning to face the screeching monster. It was Mike she thought of as she tore it to shreds, forcing her mind beyond limits she did not even know she had. Even when her vision had begun to fade and she felt herself slipping from the world she thought of Mike. And it was Mike's face in her mind when the world went black._

_Eleven woke with a sputtering cough, and she choked, tasting vomit. With blood trailing from her ears and nose, she struggled to stand. She glanced up at the chalkboard where the Demogorgon had been pinned by her power, but there was no monster. There were however hideous vines covering the surface. Looking around Eleven saw that she was still in the classroom but it was dark and cold with vines and flurries in every direction._

_Eleven felt wobbly on her feet and she had trouble understanding her surroundings. She tottered out into the hall. Reaching a corner she leaned against it, worn out by the short distance she had walked, her body aching and sore. She glanced to her right and spotted a set of double doors._

"_Mike?" she called._

_There was no answer, so she turned left and began walking down the hall. As she did her mind began to clear and she began to make sense of what she was seeing. Everything here was lifeless. It was deadly quiet, though it felt as if something was breathing all around her. This place terrified her and the features of her face were taken over by fear. _

_She called out again, "Mike? Mike? Mike! Mike!"_

_Her breaths began to chase each other in a panicked pant and her calls became desperate screams. Despite her exhaustion she picked up her pace, half-walking, half-jogging through the halls in search for Mike or Lucas or Dustin or anyone else alive in this dead place. She darted around a corner and called for Mike again in hope, but there was no one._

_Whimpering, frightened and worn down she stood alone in the Upside Down unsure of what more she could do. Suddenly, she heard what sounded like voices behind her and she slowly turned toward them, but she saw no one. However, far from her at the other end of the hall she glimpsed something bright and glowing. Gradually, she neared the phenomenon and saw that it was a breach of some kind, with threads of dead material still holding it together. It had a red glow about it and it was made of a translucent membrane. _

_Eleven bent close to examine it, trying to see through to the other side. She saw movement and she realized there were men with flashlights moving about. Suddenly, one of the men's silhouettes crouched low to peer through the opposing side of the membrane. Eleven quickly darted to the side, hiding herself. She listened as a man's voice transmitted over a radio._

"_Bravo team, check in."_

_Someone blurted back an indistinct response and a few seconds later Eleven heard their voices retreating. She turned back to what she now realized was an opening to the other world. Her world. She reached forward to touch the glowing membrane and found that it was wet and moldable. She pushed at the membrane and it stretched out like slimy rubber until eventually, her fingers broke through the barrier so that Eleven's hand touched warm air._

_She pulled her hand back and peered at the wet, slimy and cold substance that now coated her skin. Glaring back at the portal she stepped back, wiping the slime away from her hand on the overly large shirt Hopper had given her to wear over her dirty pink dress. She raised that same arm in front of her as if reaching for the portal. Drawing on her diminished energy she thought of Mike and her desire to see him again. Her brain pulsed with power and she focused on the wall around the portal forcing it to crumble away like dried breadcrumbs increasing the size of the opening._

_Once it was large enough for her to fit through she pushed through the membrane with both hands. It was not as easy as she thought with the membrane resisting her but eventually her head and shoulders came through and she slipped and stumbled until finally she landed back in her world, covered from head to toe in the substance. She glanced up and down the bright, warm hall for signs of the men she had heard earlier. She saw no one, but she noticed there were still streaks of blood along the floor. Knowing they would be back to erase the evidence of what had happened here she climbed to her feet and tottered out of the school, careful not to call for Mike in case the men were still in hearing range._

_After leaving the school Eleven quickly made her way back to the hill behind Mike's house, using the power lines as a guide. She trudged through the grass, glad for the night that concealed her. However, as Mike's house came into view she saw that several vehicles with flashing blue lights were parked before it, and she knew it was not safe to go inside. Carefully, she made her way down the hill for a closer look._

_Inside her home, Karen peered distraught at the men going through their belongings as she asked, "What about the Russians? What if they come looking for her?"_

"_They don't know where she is," a woman told her._

"_And she can't contact you without us knowing," replied the man._

_Karen glanced at the agent busy taking their phone apart in order to insert monitoring devices as another agent was telling her husband, "The most important thing is for you to try to go on with your lives...and to keep all of this-"_

"_Top secret," Ted finished giving him a salute. "Yeah. Understood. We're all patriots in this house."_

_In the foyer, a woman sat in a chair beside Mike and said in a matronly voice, "Let's go back to the beginning."_

"_I told you everything," Mike told her in aggravation. _

"_I understand this is difficult, Michael," said a male agent looking down into his face from where he stood over him._

_Mike looked up and glared in his eyes. "I don't know where she is. And even if I did, I'd never tell you. I would never tell you."_

_Outside, Eleven stared through the window and watched as the woman sitting beside Mike leaned to him and said, "I know it's difficult to accept. The stories she told you were not true. She's a very dangerous individual."_

"_If she contacts you, you must tell us," the man told him._

"_Otherwise, you're putting yourself and your entire family at risk," the woman finished. _

_As she spoke Mike glanced up at the window across from him with the feeling that he was being watched. He squinted his eyes, trying to see past the reflection of himself and the agents against the black backdrop of the night outside. Was that Eleven he saw staring back at him? Or just his imagination? Looking back at him, Eleven cried silently realizing she could not go back to Mike. It was too dangerous for her and for him. They would never stop looking._

"_Do you understand, Michael? Do you understand?" the woman asked._

"_Michael? Michael?" the man asked when he realized the child's focus was gone. He too turned to peer at the window to see what Mike was so fixated on._

_From the back door of the Wheeler home agents poured out with flashlights as one ordered the others, "Fan out! Somebody check the left side, I'll check the right side."_

_They scoured the field behind the Wheeler's house and before long they had agents combing the dark wood, and a helicopter searching the grounds from the sky for any sign of a fleeing child. Crouched low under a large, fallen tree Eleven held her knees closely to her chest. Tear tracks glistened over her cheeks as she hid, shivering and scared, from the agents searching for her._

* * *

A bright, autumn morning showed Hopper's cabin sitting serene and still deep in the woods. Inside, Hopper made french toast on the stovetop quite peacefully. Hopper turned to place the toast on two waiting plates and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he noticed a white figure with large black eyes staring up at him.

"Oh, Jesus!" he exclaimed, but after a split-second assessment he realized it was only Eleven wearing a sheet over her head with two small holes cut out for her eyes.

"Ghost," she told him.

"Yeah, I see that," he nodded, taking the pan off the stove and pacing over to the counter behind her to place a toast on each of their plates.

"Halloween," she said.

"Sure is," he said absently. "But right now it's breakfast, okay? Come on, let's eat."

"They wouldn't see me," she continued, still wearing her sheet. Hopper glanced at her then back to the food which he gathered up to take to the dining table.

"Who wouldn't see you?" he asked as he stepped around her.

"The bad men."

"What are you talking about?"

"Trick-or-treat."

She stood before him waiting hopefully as he sat in his seat at the table and peered up at her. He asked incredulously, "You want to go trick-or-treating?"

Her head nodded under the sheet. With a dark expression he shook his head and got up. "You know the rules."

"Yes, but-" Hopper took her by the shoulders and began to escort her to her seat.

"Yeah, so you know the answer," Hopper interrupted.

"No, but they wouldn't see me," she protested.

"No. Hey. I don't care."

"But they wouldn't see me."

"I don't care, all right?" He leaned down to peer through the holes in the sheet at her eyes. "You go out there, ghost or not, it's a risk. We don't take risks, all right? They're stupid. And…"

"We're not stupid!" Eleven spat vehemently.

"Exactly. Now, you take that off, sit down and eat. Your food's getting cold," he told her forcefully. He sat back down as Eleven finally removed the sheet, looking sulky and upset.

She threw herself into her chair with a grumpy expression and Hopper poured maple syrup onto her plate then his. He sighed, feeling guilty.

"All right, look…" he tried negotiating. "How 'bout I get off work early tonight, and I buy us a bunch of candy, and we can sit around and get fat, and we watch a scary movie together? How's that for compromise?"

"Co-compromise?"

He leaned down, staring directly at her. "'C', 'O', 'M', 'promise'. 'Compromise'. How about that's your word for the day? Yeah? It's something that's kinda in-between. It's like half-way happy."

"By 'five' 'one' 'five'?" she asked.

Hopper nodded, "Five-fifteen. Yeah, sure."

"Promise?"

Hopper leaned down again and looking into her eyes, he said, "Yes. I promise."

Eleven gave a sad shrug and replied, "Half-way happy."

She picked up her fork and began to eat. With a smirk Hopper reached over to gently jostle her head. She grinned in spite of herself and he smiled happily back. As he went back to cutting his toast she reached forward to add more syrup to her plate, and she and the Hawkins' chief enjoyed their quiet breakfast together as they had been for nearly a year.

* * *

Joyce walked down the hall to her son's bedroom and clapped her hands as she called, "Will? Come on, honey, up and at 'em."

She pushed past the door and entered his room to find the bed deserted and no one in sight. She spun around the room calling in concern, "Will?"

But there was no one.

"Jonathan?" she said as she rushed back into the kitchen where he was making breakfast as he always did.

"Yeah," he called back.

"Where's Will?"

"What?" Jonathan asked as he looked back at her blankly.

"Where's Will?" she repeated urgently but with an air of trying to stay calm.

Jonathan felt a cold chill sweep through him and he felt frozen in place. "What he's not in his room?"

"No," Joyce shook her head as panic and an overwhelming sense of deja vu washed over her.

"Uh…" Jonathan too tried to remain calm but suddenly they heard a clatter back down the hall. Joyce turned and ran to the bathroom from where it came and she burst through the door.

"Will?"

Will stared wide-eyed back at her, his hand frozen midway in reaching for the toilet.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"Peeing," he gestured at the toilet.

Joyce gave a small nod and chuckled in embarrassment before she backed out of the bathroom. Will flushed the toilet as she closed the door able to breathe again.

After breakfast, Joyce helped Will into his _Ghostbuster's_ costume. She zipped up the front of the beige jumpsuit then reached out and grabbed a makeshift proton pack.

"Okay. Let's get this...on," she said as she held it up and he slid his arms through the straps. Examining the costume she spotted one of the wires dangling free on the pack. "Oh. You need some tape, hold on."

She paced over to his desk to pull some tape from a dispenser. Her eyes roved over the drawings on his desk and she noticed one much less colorful than the others as he had used almost entirely black on the sketch. Knowing this was out of character for him she pulled it out to examine the drawing. It was a drawing of the view in front of their house, of the powerlines and trees, but beyond the powerlines Will had drawn a strange looking spider-like creature hovering beneath a canopy of dark, stormy clouds. She did not know what else to compare it to, having never seen anything like it. And amid the black features of the sketch, he had drawn lightning around the creature, but it was red rather than blue. It was a frightening sketch, and very unlike Will to draw.

Turning to face him she held up the drawing and asked, "What's this?"

He paused from trying to tighten the straps on his shoulders and a scared expression crossed his face.

"Uh, nothing," he replied, fiddling with the straps in his hands.

"Did you have another episode?" she asked gently.

"No, it's just um...a sketch for a story I'm writing."

Joyce nodded feeling he was being less than truthful, but she decided not to press him and so she sighed, "All right."

"Three, two, one…" Jonathan counted moments later before snapping a photo of Will smiling wide in his costume with two thumbs up. "Great. Hold up the proton blaster."

Will reached around and pulled out his makeshift blaster and Jonathan snapped another photo thriving in full photographer mode.

"All right, now turn to the light," he instructed Will, who made the pose enthusiastically as Joyce smiled proudly.

"Oh! Let me see those pearls! Yeah!" Mrs. Henderson exclaimed excitedly as she too snapped pictures of Dustin grinning toothily at the camera holding up his proton blaster in a nearly identical _Ghostbuster's _costume.

Mews the cat meowed at the pair of them as Mrs. Henderson sang, "'_Who you gonna call?'_"

She scatted out a beat from the _Ghostbuster's _theme song, then laughed as Dustin held up his proton box and she snapped another photo as she exclaimed again, "Oh!"

Lucas smirked as he posed pointing toward his back with his proton pack displayed for the picture his mother took of him.

"Adorable, baby. Just adorable!" she encouraged him.

Lucas' sister, Erica, watched with raised eyebrows as he struck another pose in which his arm was raised in a muscled man pose.

She shook her head. "God. You are such a nerd."

Lucas now holding up his proton blaster gave his sister a dark look. "Shut up."

"No wonder you only hang out with boys."

Lucas dropped his arms in annoyance as their mother growled at her, "Erica!"

"Just the facts," she replied.

Mrs. Sinclair shook her head in disapproval but went back to snapping photos of her son as Erica mouthed the word 'nerd' for Lucas to see clearly.

"Oh my God, I love this costume. Keep it up," Mrs. Sinclair told Lucas and he raised his proton blaster with a smile.

"All right that's the last one," Mike said.

Pulling out the Polaroid print she had just taken Karen said, "No, just one more. Come on. Please?"

She snapped a photo of a grimacing Mike as she exclaimed in adoration.

"Can I go to school?" he griped.

"Wait, wait, wait," she held up the camera again to take yet another photo. "Okay say, '_Who you gonna call?_'"

"No!" Mike refused as the camera flashed again.

Finally, arriving at school on their bikes Mike, Lucas and Dustin sang out, "'_Who you gonna call?_'"

"'_Ghostbusters!_'" Will shouted enthusiastically from behind them.

"Hey Spengler!" Mike greeted him.

"Egon! Yeah!" Lucas declared.

"Venkman!" Will proclaimed catching sight of Lucas' name tag as he hugged him.

Mike frowned at Lucas' name tag as well. "Whoa! Whoa!"

"What?" Lucas asked, despite already knowing what he was going to say.

"Why are you Venkman?"

"Because I'm Venkman," Lucas told him matter-of-factly.

Mike protested, "No I'm Venkman."

"Why can't there just be two Venkmans?" Will reasoned with a shrug.

"Because there's only one Venkman in real life. We planned this months ago," Mike complained. He pointed to himself and then each of them in turn as he said, "I'm Venkman, Dustin's Stanz, you're Egon, and you're Winston."

"I specifically didn't agree to Winston," Lucas stated.

"Yes, you did!" Mike disagreed.

"I don't think he did," Will pointed out fairly.

"No one wants to be Winston, man," Lucas said and Dustin shook his head in disgusted agreement with Lucas.

"What's wrong with Winston?" asked Mike.

"'What's wrong with Winston?'" Lucas repeated sarcastically. "He joined the team super late, he's not funny, and he's not even a scientist."

"Yeah, but he's still cool."

"If he's cool, then you be Winston."

"Wh- I can't!" Mike answered in panic.

"Why not?" asked Lucas with his hands on his hips in a posture very reminiscent of his mother.

"B-because…" stuttered Mike as he cast around for an excuse.

Mocking his stutter, Lucas answered for him. "B-b-b-because you're not black."

"I didn't say that!" Mike yelled, his face flushing.

"You thought it," accused Lucas.

Distracted from their argument Dustin turned to stare at the school yard behind him, and he began to notice the horrifying picture before him.

"I didn't say that!" Mike was denying.

"Mike!" yelled Lucas.

"Guys...guys! Guys!" Dustin shouted over at them.

Mike, Lucas and Will glanced up at Dustin who was watching the students climb off buses, amble in from the parking lots, and chatting with their friends before the start of school.

"Why is no one else wearing costumes?" he asked.

They stared in horror at the students all dressed in normal street clothes, not a single other person dressed up for Halloween.

"Crap," said Lucas.

Moments later they walked down the school hall with students gaping and laughing at them.

"Oh my God!" declared a student jubilantly.

"When do people make these decisions?" asked Dustin.

"Everyone dressed up last year," Will reminded them.

"It's a conspiracy, I'm telling you," Dustin declared.

"Just be cool," Mike ordered.

As a boy passed he called out, "'_Who you gonna call?' The nerds!_"

At their lockers Dustin and Lucas turned when they heard a clatter down the hall. They looked up to see Max riding her skateboard down the center of the hall. They watched as she passed them and rode straight to her locker where she hopped off and opened it to retrieve her things.

"We gonna do this?" Dustin asked with a nod.

"Not right now. We look like morons," Lucas pointed out.

"Maybe she likes _Ghostbusters_?" Dustin wondered hopefully.

"Of course she likes _Ghostbusters_, but that's not the point," Lucas said. "The point is we're dressed up and she isn't."

"But I didn't bring regular clothes, did you?"

"No."

"Then we have no choice. We gotta do this," Dustin said bravely. "It's now or never."

Lucas pumped up his shoulders, breathing in through his nose. "Right."

"Let's engage," Dustin leaned forward as if about to make his move but froze waiting for Lucas to make the first move.

However, as Max closed her locker and took off down the hall away from them, they both still remained frozen.

Dustin straightened up. "We could ask her after class."

"Yup," Lucas gasped as he released his breath. He turned on the spot to face his locker, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

"Okay," agreed Dustin. They both slammed their locker doors closed and headed to class.

* * *

Hopper held up the dark sketch Joyce had shown him, then lowered it to peer at the landscape in front of her house.

"See? It's an exact match," Joyce said. Hopper held it up again, comparing the sketch with reality.

Inside the house, Hopper lit his cigarette while Joyce asked from across the dining table, "But...why would he lie to me?"

Hopper inhaled deeply. "Cause he's a kid, Joyce."

"I mean, you heard him describe these episodes," she pressed. "It's not like he's describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they're real."

"Yeah, because they're not nightmares, they're flashbacks. I know a couple guys who have had these things, and it feels like you're there, like it's happening."

Joyce grabbed the drawing and asked, "Then, what the hell is this?"

"Owens said it would get worse."

"That place…" she sighed in frustration, wishing she could throttle the entire Upside Down.

"What do you wanna do? You wanna take him back to Chicago?" Hopper stood and walked around the side of the table to sit in the chair directly beside Joyce.

"Well, th-there's that guy in Boston that's supposed to be-"

Hopper groaned. "They're all a bunch of quacks. And they'll all just tell you the same thing, just cost you more money."

He paused thinking about what Dr. Owens had said about the flashbacks and then he thought about Eleven and her sudden impatience and desire to leave the cabin.

"I think he's right...about trauma," Hopper said slowly. "And he's right we're coming up on a year, you know. I think everybody's on edge. Me, you...Will most of all. I think we just gotta get through the next few weeks."

They both sighed tiredly. This year had been long and hard on both of them.

"Nothings gonna go back to the way that it was," Hopper continued. "Not really. But it'll get better. In time."

Wearily, Joyce grabbed her purse to rummage for a cigarette. Knowing what she wanted Hopper offered her his.

"Here."

"Thank you," she said, taking it gratefully. She took a quick drag, then erupted into a fit of coughing and choking. Hopper smirked in amusement. "Jesus! Hopper…"

"Brings me back to old times," he said reminiscently.

"What?" Joyce croaked.

"Well, sharing my cigarettes between…"

"Fifth and sixth period," she finished.

Hopper's mouth stretched into a wide smile. "Yeah, under the steps. Mr. Cooper caught us that time, remember? He was like," (Hopper adopted a gruff voice) "'Hey, assholes'."

"We ran. We just ran," Joyce laughed at the memory.

Hopper's eyes met hers and her smile slipped from her face as she thought of the turns their lives had taken, both before and after the Upside Down. Now, she wished she could somehow take her boys and run, just run far away.

Shaking her head she looked back up at Hopper. "God, I want this to be over."

"I know," he told her.

They sat quietly at Joyce's kitchen table smoking their cigarettes and thinking about all the ways their lives had been turned inside out.

* * *

A man wearing a trench coat casually made his way from the parking lot of Hawkins Lab into the building. In the sublevels of the lab a scientist prepared himself for entry into the Upside Down, donning a full hazmat suit complete with breathing apparatus. Once ready he entered the isolated atmosphere with a case full of technical tools. The man did not hesitate or pause to rethink his actions before pushing through the membrane as though he had done so many times before. On his person he carried a body camera which recorded his trip into the dimension. It crackled with static interference, but continued to monitor his work.

Speaking into a microphone from the safety of the control room, Dr. Sam Owens asked the man, "How's it looking out there, cowboy?"

Owens was watching the TV monitor feed which showed the images transmitted by the body camera. They could all see the mirror version of their world.

"Uh, you know doc. The usual. Nice and nasty with a chance of radioactivity," the hazmat scientist responded nonchalantly.

Those in the control lab watched as the agent walked up to a set of equipment staged months ago. He opened a panel on the control board.

"Oh yeah, it's barbecued all right. Anyone hungry?" the agent said as he pulled out a large battery which was burnt to a crisp.

The technician beside Owens, who had alerted him when the alarms were set off, stood watching the feed in fascination while he ate a bag of candy. The agent inside the Upside Down replaced the battery pack and the lights in the control room stopped blinking.

"And...we're back on."

The technicians all cheered and clapped at the agent's success and Owens grinned, but he continued to watch the monitor closely as the man began to make his way back to their world. Owens' fist squeezed the stress ball in his hand and he wondered what had caused the sudden destruction of the battery pack which was supposed to have had a much longer lifespan.

After the safe return of his agent, Owens went to the security room to rewatch his interview with Will.

"There was this storm," said Will on the tape.

Owens tapped his fingers anxiously as he scrutinized every detail on the recording.

"Okay. So how did you feel when you saw the storm?" he heard himself ask.

"I felt frozen."

"Actually frozen? Cold?"

"No, like - like uh, like how you feel when you're scared, and you can't breathe or talk or do anything. I felt...I felt this evil-"

Owens turned the monitor off, his fist still clenched around the blue ball, thinking.

* * *

Nancy erased part of the equation she had written on her math homework as she sat beside Steve in the school library. After brushing away the flecks from her eraser she turned her pencil over to correct the error. As she scribbled the problem on the paper she pressed too hard on the page so that the tip of her pencil broke with a snap. She gave an inward sigh, got up from her seat, and walked to the pencil sharpener located by the window sill, Steve glancing over as she did.

She inserted the pencil into the sharpener then cranked the handle. While she waited for the device to shave through the pencil and create a new tip she peered around the library at the other students. That's when she spotted a girl searching through the bookshelves. The girl was tall and heavyset, wearing a plaid shirt tucked into a pair of high-waist jeans. Her hair was ginger and done up in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

As if echoing from the past Nancy heard Barb's voice telling her, "Nancy, this isn't you."

"Barb, just go ahead and go home, okay?" she had told her.

Staring blankly at the girl's back she could not help wondering if it was somehow Barb, returned from the Upside Down. Maybe it had never happened. Maybe it was all a dream.

Like a dream she heard Barb screaming in desperation and panic. "Nancy? Nancy!"

"Nancy."

Steve grabbed her shoulder, breaking through her thoughts, and turning her toward him. She gave him a startled look and he frowned at her.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Nancy glanced back to look at the girl by the shelves, just as she turned around. Despite her hair, build and clothing, she looked nothing like Barbara Holland. Steve turned to see what she was looking at as well.

In a study room, off the side of the library, Nancy told Steve, "I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Pretending that everything's okay."

"What are you talking about?"

"Barbara," she said in frustration, her voice breaking. "It's like everyone forgot. It's like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they're selling their house."

"Nance-"

"And they're going to spend the rest of their lives looking for her," Nancy continued, crying.

"I know. I know," Steve said consolingly.

"It's destroying them," she whispered in an agonized voice.

"I know. I know. Okay? I get it," Steve said, then looking around uncomfortably he added, "But listen, there's nothing we can do about it."

A stubborn look came over Nancy's face. "Yeah, we could tell them the truth."

Steve looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Well, you know that we can't do that," he told her sharply.

"We don't have to tell them everything," she muttered.

"No, this isn't some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…" He paused, nervously aware of the raised volume of his voice. Strolling over to the room's window, he shut the blinds then paced back over to Nancy and continued in a low voice. "They could put us in jail. Okay? Or worse, they could destroy our families. They could do anything they want? Okay, just think about what you're saying."

Nancy's head dropped in disappointment and grief. Tears began to well up in her eyes and Steve's expression softened.

"Hey…" he sat on the table beside them and rubbed her arms. "Hey, hey...hey. It's…"

Steve sighed, trying to think of the right words, then continued gently, "It's hard, but let's...let's just go to Tina's stupid party, wear our stupid costumes, that we've been working on for a stupid amount of time, and just pretend, like we're stupid teenagers, okay? Can we just do that, just for tonight?"

Nancy peered up at him unhappily then murmured, "Okay."

"Come here," he pulled her into a hug which she returned, sighing as she rested her head on his shoulder and tightened her arms around him.

* * *

The class bell rang at Hawkins' Middle School and students spilled out into the hall. Max returned to her locker, opening it to put away her first period books. Beside her she heard a throat clear and she looked over to see Dustin and Lucas smiling at her.

"Um. Hi Max," greeted Dustin. "I'm Dustin and t-this is…"

"Lucas," Lucas introduced himself with a grin.

"Yeah, I know," Max said, unsmiling. "The stalkers."

The boys' smiles vanished from their faces and they stuttered in protest.

"Uh, n-n-no. Actually...we weren't stalking you," denied Lucas.

"No, we-we-we were just concerned because, you know, you're new and all," invented Dustin.

"Y-y-yeah, for your safety," Lucas confirmed.

"Mmm-hmm. There are a lot of bullies here," Dustin capitalized on their excuse.

"So many bullies, i-i-it's crazy," said Lucas with a wild gesture.

"Yeah," nodded Dustin.

Max looked him up and down and asked in amusement, "Is that why you're wearing proton packs?"

"Well, these don't function, but…" Dustin excitedly reached around to de-tangle the remote control to his ghost trap. "I do have this handy-dandy little trap here. A-and look, it even opens and closes. Look, look, look…"

He used the controller to activate the mechanism that caused the small trap doors to swing open.

"Voila!" he grinned widely as Lucas held out his hands as if presenting the contraption as a marvelous game show prize.

Max merely stared between the two, unimpressed. Dustin read her expression and quickly lowered the trap as he continued on with their plan.

"No? Okay. but, um...so w-we were talking last night, and you're new here, so you probably don't have any friends to take you trick-or-treating, and you're scared of bullies so uh, we were thinking that it would be okay if you come with us."

Lucas smiled in approval as Max repeated pompously, ""It'd be okay?'"

"Yeah!" Dustin affirmed enthusiastically. "Our party's a democracy and the majority voted you could come."

"I didn't realize it was such an honor to go trick-or-treating with you," stated Max.

"Yeah, I mean we know where to get the full-sized candy bars," Dustin went on unaware of her sarcasm. He whispered conspiratorially, "We figured you'd want in."

Max squinted at him. "That's presumptuous of you."

Dustin paused, unfamiliar with the word.

"Yeah. Totally. Uh, so um...you'll come?" he asked, not noticing the strange look Lucas gave him. Max rolled her eyes, closed her locker, and strolled away.

"We're meeting at the Maple Street cul-de-sac at seven," he called after her. Cupping his hand around his mouth to enhance the volume of his voice he yelled, "That's seven on the dot!"

"'Presumptuous'," Dustin repeated in a low, satisfied voice. He looked at Lucas. "That's a good thing, right?"

Lucas gave him another funny look, then with a sigh, he turned and walked away.

"Is it bad?" Dustin asked nervously. Lucas continued to stroll away and Dustin chased after him. "Lucas, is it bad? Lucas? Son of a bitch, Lucas. Is it bad?"

* * *

A chau gong rang out a loud musical note as it was hit with a huge mallet on the small television screen in Hopper's cabin.

A woman appeared and spoke in a sultry voice, "How does it feel? Like pouring pure silk onto my skin."

From her position on the couch across from the TV Eleven twitched her head and the knob on the switchboard rotated, changing the channel. A tall, muscular man replaced the woman. He wore dark sunglasses, a black leather jacket and was carrying a large gun.

A man said in voice-over, "Inhuman. Relentless."

The looming man on the screen kicked open a door and then suddenly there was an explosion.

"Arnold Schwarzenegger is The Term-"

The voice-over ended abruptly as Eleven twitched her head again and the channel changed so that a woman with short hair appeared.

"Well, I'm stunned," she was saying. "I don't know what to think."

Seeing a woman with hair short like hers rather than worn long down her back intrigued Eleven and she settled more comfortably on the couch.

"Don't you love me?" asked a man as he watched her closely.

"Of course I love you," the woman answered but she turned and paced away. "It's just that it's so sudden. I mean, it's not like you."

The man went to stand close beside her. "Erica, I am this way because of you."

"Me?" Erica repeated in dramatic surprise.

"Me?" Eleven copied in the same tone.

The man leaned down and kissed the woman's neck. "Mmm-hmm. You have made me wild and impetuous just like you."

"Impetuous," Eleven said, liking the sound of the word though she had no clue what it meant.

"People are going to be aghast," said Erica in her high voice.

Eleven mimicked her, "People are going to be aghast."

The man laughed. "They're going to love it."

Soon the woman was laughing too, though Eleven did not understand why. Suddenly, a chittering erupted from behind her and she spun around startled.

"I mean, it's gonna stun the whole town. The whole world!" Erica exclaimed but Eleven was no longer listening as she got up to walk over to the window.

"Erica, tell me that you will marry me, in this house, tonight…" the man asked.

El raised the blind to peer out of the window and she saw a squirrel chittering away on a bird feeder. It looked straight back at her.

* * *

_Deep in the woods a squirrel climbed up onto a small log of wood lying on the frozen, snow-covered ground. It peered around at the trees when suddenly a force flung the small creature through the air so that it flew with a frightful squeal before hitting the trunk of a tree with a fatal thud. It's lifeless body dropped to the snow at the base of the tree, twitching._

_From several feet away, Eleven, wearing her tattered dress and overlarge plaid shirt, shuffled through the snow toward the dead rodent. A trickle of blood flowed from her nose and her previously shaved head was now covered with short dark bristles. She picked up the squirrel by its tail and peered at it. A feeling of remorse for killing it so violently pulsed through her and she sighed. However, hunger overtook her and before long she was roasting the remains over a fire, having used her powers to ignite it. _

_She was turning the stick, which impaled the meat, over the flames patiently, when she heard twigs snapping underfoot. She spun around to see a man staring at her from a few yards away. He was holding a rifle at his side, the barrel pointed at the ground. A hunter. He spoke to her in a gentle, slow voice._

"_Hey. I'm not gonna hurt ya. What's your name?" He came a little closer. "What're you doing out here in the cold?"_

_Eleven did not answer but merely glared at him. From behind her, the log she had set ablaze rose into the air. The man stared at it in alarm, when abruptly, it flew straight at him hitting him hard in the face and knocking him out. Eleven ran to the unconscious man and quickly removed his fur hat and winter coat. Putting the warm articles on she ran off to hide, the snow crunching under her feet. _

* * *

Eleven watched the squirrel outside the cabin for a moment, remembering the desperation and the cold of that time in the woods. Then, she pulled the blind back down over the window, shutting herself away in the lonely, wooden cabin.

* * *

Hopper's truck pulled into the parking lot at the police station, parking beside a truck with a large bed covered by a dirty, blue tarp. Climbing out of the cab he made to head inside when he paused at the sound of buzzing. He turned to glance at the truck alongside his. Walking over to the back end, he lifted a corner of the tarp to peer at the items beneath it. He found a swarm of flies buzzing over the dead remains of several rotten pumpkins just like what he had seen at Merrill's the day before.

After going inside, Hopper soon found himself sitting at a station desk across from Eugene.

"So you're telling me that Merrill poisoned your farm, because he thinks that you poisoned his which, of course, you didn't?" Hopper clarified, after Eugene stated his piece.

"No, sir. And I got me an alibi the night he accuses me," Eugene confirmed as Powell and Callahan listened closely. "My Jenny and her boys were in town. I was with 'em all night."

"Did you actually see Merrill?" Hopper asked.

"No need. That man done lost his mind," griped Eugene in exasperation. "Went around slandering me, threatening all sorts of madness."

"A pumpkin conspiracy, Chief," chuckled Powell.

"Hawkins very own _Chinatown," _Callahan quipped.

Ignoring them, Hopper told Eugene, "Listen, Merrill threatening to do something and him actually doing something are two very different things."

"You got a better explanation?" Eugene asked him with wide eyes.

"Cold weather," Hopper shrugged.

"It's October."

"Yeah, it's a cold one," Hopper pressed.

Eugene held out his wrinkled hands with palms facing Hopper. "You see these hands?"

Hopper nodded. "Yeah."

"You know why they look like that?"

"Because you're old," frowned Hopper, confused.

"You're damn straight," Eugene stated firmly. Powell chuckled in amusement. "And I've been doing this a long time, Chief. A long time. And I ain't never seen anything the likes of this. None of us have."

"None of us?" asked Hopper.

"Merrill didn't just hit me last night. He hit damn near everyone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jack O'dell, Pete Freeling, Rick Neary, the Christensens," Eugene listed off. "All of their crops, dead."

Hopper stared at him in wonder, then he reached into a drawer in the desk and pulled out a pad of notebook paper.

"Give me those names again," he said.

* * *

After school Max rode her skateboard down the pavement to the high school parking lot. Stepping off her board, she used her foot to propel one end up so that she could pick it up and walk the rest of the way to the Camaro in the lot. Her stepbrother was leaning against the trunk waiting for her. She walked straight past him but then glanced at the back of his head, hesitating for a moment before opening the passenger door to climb in.

"You're late again," he said without looking at her.

"Yeah, I had to get catch-up homework," she explained.

"Jesus. I don't care," he snickered in annoyance. Turning his head slightly he said over his shoulder, "You're late again and you're skating home. Do you hear me?"

Looking back toward the parking lot with a bitter look he took a last drag from his cigarette, then threw it to the ground as she climbed into the car. He walked around to the driver's seat and slid in behind the wheel, throwing his bag carelessly behind his seat.

Max sat quietly in her seat as Billy sped down a country road toward home.

"God, this place is such a shit-hole," he griped.

"It's not that bad," Max stated, wanting to contradict him.

"No?" He asked innocently, then he rolled down her window as she looked around confused. He inhaled deeply, then pinched his nose. "Mmm! You smell that Max? That's actually shit. Cow shit."

"I don't see any cows," she said stubbornly.

"Clearly, you haven't met the high school girls," Billy replied.

Max raised the window and rolled her eyes at his statement.

"So, what you like it here now?" he scoffed.

"No."

"Then why are you defending it?"

"I'm not."

"Sure sounds like it," he accused.

"It's just, we're stuck here, so…" Max explained wishing he would just drop it.

"Hmm. You're right. We're stuck here," he glanced over at her with a dark look. "And whose fault is that?"

Looking down into her lap Max whispered under her breath, "Yours."

"What'd you say?" he peered back at her again.

"Nothing."

"Did you say it's my fault?"

"No," she lied quickly.

"You know whose fault it is. Say it. Max...say it," he said in a low, menacing voice. Then, suddenly he bellowed into her ear. "Say it!"

She flinched but remained quiet as he shifted gears and floored the gas pedal, speeding down the winding road at a dangerous speed. He pounded the steering wheel as he rocked and bobbed to the music blasting from the stereo. Max leaned forward, staring out the dash window at three figures riding bikes on the road ahead of them. They all wore proton packs.

"Really, everyone dressed up last year," Dustin was complaining to Mike and Lucas unaware of the fast-approaching vehicle behind them.

"Billy, slow down," Max said worriedly.

"Oh, these your new hick friends?" Billy asked.

"No! No, I don't know them," she answered quickly.

"Well, I guess you won't care if I hit 'em, then, huh? I get bonus points, I get 'em all in one go?" he yelled.

She turned in her seat to face him and said fiercely, "No, Billy, stop. It's not funny."

Billy simply stared back at her while pounding the steering wheel. The Camaro sped over the hilly road and Dustin looked behind them to see the car speeding toward them.

"Hey guys," he said in growing alarm.

"Billy, come on, stop it! It's not funny! Stop!" implored Max.

He ignored her and sped up instead. The three boys now paddled their bikes hard trying to reach the end of the street before the car.

Mike screamed, "Go, go, go, go!"

"Mike, you need to haul ass!" yelled Dustin.

"Billy, stop it!" screamed Max.

In panic, she reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, turning it so that the car swerved away from the boys, just as they directed their bikes onto the leafy shoulder of the road.

"Whoa! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" Dustin hollered as he collapsed off his bike.

Having taken back control of his car, Billy bellowed wildly, "Yeah! That was a close one, huh? Ha ha!"

He laughed raucously as Max spun around to stare out the back window to check if the boys were safe.

Dustin clambered to his feet. "Holy shit! Was that-?"

Lucas helped Dustin up then stared after the speeding car. He panted out, "Mad Max."

From the passenger seat of the Camaro, Max watched their fading figures remorsefully.

* * *

Once again Hopper drove down a dirt lane passing a sign saying 'Pick Your Own Pumpkin", only this time it was to see Eugene's field. The family watched in morose silence as Hopper and

Eugene ambled through the pumpkin field. Just like Merrill's every one of the pumpkins was black and rotting, flies buzzing over the dead feast.

Hopper bent down to examine one of the fruit and Eugene gestured around with a small stick, asking, "Now, you tryin' to tell me, with a straight face, cold did this?"

"How far does it go?" Hopper questioned him as he stared down the field.

A few minutes later, he and Eugene came to the edge of the woods at the end of the field. Hopper walked over to a black and dying tree. He examined the trunk, noticing some sort of sap oozing from the decomposing wood. He reached out with his gloved hand and found that it was incredibly sticky. As he tried to shake it free from his hand, Powell suddenly called over the radio.

"Hey, Chief, you copy?"

"Uh…" Hopper grunted still trying to shake the goo off his glove.

"Hey, Chief."

Still trying to clean off his glove, Hopper pulled out his radio with his other hand and transmitted, "How's it looking over there?"

"Like a giant pissed all over Jack's bean field," Powell answered from the midst of another infected field. "Smells too. It smell over there?"

"Uh, yeah, little bit."

"Smells like a nursing home, man," whined Callahan from behind Powell.

"Listen. I want you guys to track the rot, see how far it goes. Just uh, mark anything that's dead," ordered Hopper.

"Uh, that's gonna take some time," Powell protested.

"So take it," snapped Hopper. "And look we don't know what caused this. Could be poison. So don't touch anything without gloves."

Powell listened to this statement as he watched Callahan touching the dead, gooey plants with his bare hand then lifting it to his nose to sniff his fingers.

Rolling his eyes, Powell replied, "Copy that, Chief."

Storing his radio away Hopper turned to Eugene. "You got any marking flags?"

After Eugene had retrieved some bright yellow flag markers, Hopper took them and began to bury them into the soil by clumps of rotting vegetation and he went through the woods marking in large sections all that was dead.

* * *

Towels billowed in the wind as they hung drying from the clotheslines outside the Byers' house. Dressed in a black suit and cape, and wearing makeup reminiscent of Count Dracula, Bob stared into the lens of his video recorder as he instructed Jonathan on its use.

"So, you hit 'T' to zoom in, and 'W' zooms back out. See? Easy-peasy."

"Yeah," nodded Jonathan, lowering the recorder.

"Just make sure to turn off the power to save energy there," Bob pointed at the power button.

Behind them Joyce was assisting Will with his proton pack.

"Listen. Stay close to your brother, okay? And listen, listen, listen…" she turned him to face her and told him quietly. "If you get a bad feeling or anything, you just tell him to take you straight home."

Will nodded and she met his eyes. "You promise?"

"Okay," he answered, trying to please her enough that she would let him go quickly.

Jonathan joined them. "Are you ready, bud?"

"Yeah," Will replied.

Jonathan followed Will out of the house who gave his mother a wide smile to show that he was just fine.

Joyce called after them. "Be safe."

"I hope it doesn't suck!" Bob called in a Dracula accent, helped along by his deformed fake teeth. He snickered in amusement and Joyce gave a short chuckle before watching her boys retreat anxiously.

As they drove down the road Jonathan commented to Will. "I just - I just don't get what she sees in him."

"What?"

Jonathan pulled a face. "Bob."

"At least he doesn't treat me different," Will said quietly. "I mean, I can't even go trick-or-treating by myself. It's lame."

He sat back in his seat, but rather than looking angry or frustrated, he simply looked tired.

"What? You think I'm lame?" Jonathan joked trying to cheer him up.

"No, but it's not like Nancy's coming to watch over Mike, you know?"

Jonathan sighed. He felt torn over wanting to keep Will in his sights at all times and wanting Will to feel like he was just a normal kid who didn't need special treatment. They remained quiet for the rest of the drive to the Wheeler's house, and as they pulled into the cul-de-sac Dustin, Lucas and Mike glanced up from the lawn, pillow cases gripped in their hands.

"Will. Hey!" called Dustin happily.

The boys waved their proton blasters and Jonathan honked back in greeting. One of them yelled, "Hey, don't cross the streams. Don't cross the streams."

Jonathan pulled the car alongside the curb, threw it in park and turned off the engine. He sighed as he came to a decision.

"Hey, listen," he said to Will, who was getting ready to exit the cab.

"Yeah?"

Jonathan started slowly. "If...I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?"

Will's face lit up and he smiled a wide, excited smile. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah totally!"

Jonathan gesturing at the Wheeler's house. "And be back at Mike's by nine?"

"Nine...thirty?" tried Will.

"Nine."

"Yeah," nodded a grinning Will.

Jonathan held his hand out. "Deal?"

"Yeah, deal!" Will quickly shook his brother's hand, then gathered his proton pack and pillowcase.

"All right," said Jonathan. He reached down for Bob's video recorder and passed it over to Will saying, "Hey, Will. Don't let any of your spazzy friends use this, all right?"

Will snickered as he took the recorder. "Okay."

Imitating Bob's Dracula voice, Jonathan told him, "I hope it doesn't suck."

With a laugh Will closed the door then took off to join his friends. Jonathan watched as they called out in greeting all at once.

"Will!"

"Egon!"

"Yeah! You ready for tonight man?"

Jonathan could not help feeling anxious, remembering what happened the last time he was supposed to watch Will and hadn't. But Will would be with his friends in a busy neighborhood. Besides, they had to let him grow up sometime and allow him to live and enjoy his life. With that thought he reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded orange flyer for Tina's Halloween party. Maybe it was time he started too. He turned the ignition and his car's engine sputtered to life.

* * *

Music blasted from inside a house crowded with high school students dressed in Halloween costumes and partying with their friends.

A group of the partiers shouted as they counted away the seconds in which Billy Hargrove was performing a keg-stand.

"...thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two!"

Lowering himself back on his feet, Billy stood straight and spat beer out of his mouth into the air and everyone cheered. He was wearing a pair of snug jeans and a leather jacket over his bare chest which was shining with a sheen of beer and sweat.

"Yeah!" he hollered.

From beside him, Tommy H. shouted, "Forty-two! We got ourselves a new Keg King!"

Tommy handed Billy a lit cigarette as the crowd began chanting his name. Billy took a deep drag then through a haze of smoke he shouted boastfully, "That's how you do it Hawkins! That's how you do it!"

Billy and Tommy made their way through the yard into the house followed by the chanting of Billy's name. Many of the other kids they passed were highly drunk from the festivities, and they passed one exuberant teen dressed as a caveman and holding a plastic bat who was so drunk that he rammed the bat over his head several times while bellowing a loud battle cry.

Inside the house the party was just as wild and ear-deafening. Toilet paper hung from the ceiling fan, and doing a little dance Billy weaved through the crowd with his arm raised in victory then took a piece of the toilet paper and wiped the beer from his lips. As he did so he glanced across the room. His attention diverted he pushed his way through the crowd and approached a couple standing along the wall, a menacing expression across his face.

"We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington," Tommy announced as he pulled up beside Billy.

"Yeah that's right!" yelled another boy.

"Yeah. Eat it, Harrington," said another.

Steve and Nancy peered back at their peers in annoyance and Steve removed his ray bands to glare back at Billy. Nancy however, was not interested in a confrontation and she turned to look around the party. She left Steve standing there and made her way through the crowd until she found herself in the kitchen. She looked around for something to drink and she leaned over a clear, glass bowl of what looked like fruit punch.

"What's in this?" she asked a boy standing beside her who was chugging a plastic cup full of it.

He lowered his cup and roared, "Pure fuel! Pure fuel! Whoo!"

He pounded his chest, then let out a burp and went back to finishing his drink. Steve smirked in amusement as he approached from behind but then he noticed that Nancy had filled a cup with the spiked punch and was gulping it down.

"Hey, whoa, whoa…hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy. Take it easy. Nance, Nance, Nance…" he reached for the cup to take it from her and she backed away, holding the cup protectively and frowning at him.

"We're just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn't that the deal?" she threw at him in annoyance.

Steve did not respond and she turned to fill her cup again, which she proceeded to drain in front of him. Lowering the cup she reached up and wiped some of the liquid from her cheek, then entered the throng of dancing teenagers and began to bob mindlessly to the music. Steve leaned against the counter regretting his decision to come. He had wanted to spend a night where they could just forget everything, but partying just wasn't the same when no one truly wanted you there, including yourself.

* * *

In Joyce's living room, Bob carefully placed the stylus onto the turntable of Joyce's record player. A song featuring Kenny Rogers began to play softly in the quiet home, and he turned with a smile, Joyce chuckling as she watched him.

"No. No. No," she protested as he danced his way over.

Taking her glass of wine from her and setting it on the coffee table, he said, "Come on. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Come on."

He reached down and took both of her hands and helped her to her feet. Despite her complaints she allowed him to pull her into his arms, her own wrapping comfortably around his shoulders.

"Oh, there it is," he chuckled. He danced with her, gently swaying as they turned on the spot. "You playing Frankenstein to my Dracula? Come on, you're stiff as a board. Relax."

Joyce put her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's…"

She lifted her head and met his eyes. Not needing her to finish the sentence, Bob told her, "He's fine. Okay? Jonathan's with him."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I know. It's just every time he's away from me, it's like I can't function. I know it sounds silly."

"No, it's not silly. It's not silly," he held her close as they danced. He remained quiet for a moment, then with hesitation he asked, "What if we were to move out of Hawkins...together?"

Joyce leaned back instantly. "What?"

"I know. Whoa, Nellie, right?" he chuckled nervously. "No, I just...I-I've been thinking about what you said. About how we've got all these memories here, and you wish you had enough money to move. Well, my parents are selling their house in Maine. There's a Radio Shack nearby. I'm sure they'd take me on. We could just…"

He fell silent as he watched Joyce, who had lowered her eyes doubtfully. He backtracked and said meekly, "My turn to be silly now."

Joyce sighed, and reached up to caress his face. "Bob…"

Bob shook his head, embarrassed. "No, it's fine. Wine makes me crazy."

"Oh, it's just so hard to explain," she said.

She wanted to tell him the truth. That there was more holding them in Hawkins than mere financial problems, with Will needing to be examined by the Hawkins' scientists, and Hopper keeping an eye out for dimensional phenomenons, and Will's friends being the only ones outside of their family who understood what had happened to him.

"It's just this...this is not a normal family," she related.

"It could be," he whispered.

Joyce gave him a pained smile. She could see that maybe in another world where Will had never gone missing and they remained oblivious to the mysteries of the universe, she and Bob and her boys could just be a normal little family in a humble home. But if he knew the truth, she was sure he would run far away. And besides, they were not permitted to tell anyone. So instead, she merely pulled him to her and held on tightly as they danced to the music. They were interrupted by the doorbell and Bob pulled back from her.

"Finally," he said. He popped in his fake teeth and gestured at his mouth. "Huh?"

Then, he turned toward the door and, imitating Dracula once more, he said, "Victims!" and rushed over to greet the Halloween beggars.

* * *

"Trick-or-treat!" announced Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will together as a grinning, elderly lady opened her door.

Will held Bob's video recorder on his shoulder and was capturing the woman's amused excitement as she looked them over.

"Oh! Well, aren't you cute?" she exclaimed. "The little exterminators!"

She held out a bowl of candy but the smiles slipped from their faces at her comment and they glanced at one another offended. In annoyance they each grabbed fistfuls of the candy and left without a thank you.

"If I get another _Three Muskateers_, I'm gonna kill myself," Lucas complained as they ambled down a hill to the sidewalk, swinging pillowcases of candy.

"What's wrong with _Three Muskateers_?" wondered Dustin.

"'What's wrong with _Three Muskateers_?'" Lucas repeated incredulously.

"No, one like's _Three Muskateers_," Mike claimed.

"Yeah, it's just nougat," Will pointed out.

"Whoa! 'Just nougat'? Just nougat? It is top three for me," Dustin announced sharply.

"Top three?" Lucas shook his head in disbelief.

"Top three," Dustin reiterated.

"Oh God, give me a break," Mike rolled his eyes.

"Seriously," Dustin went on. "I could just eat a whole bowl of nougat. Straight up."

Suddenly, a black creature with a disfigured white face leapt out before them wielding a sword and growling. The boys leapt back with horrified shouts and a high-pitched scream from Lucas. The creature reached up and removed its face revealing a laughing Max Mayfield. She was wearing a black coverall, a grotesque Halloween mask, and carrying a toy sword and an orange trick-or-treat pumpkin bucket from Melvard's General Store which she had bought after school let out.

"Holy shit! You should have seen the look on your faces. And you?" she directed her gaze at Lucas. "Who screams like that? You sound like a little girl."

Still chortling she turned and flounced away, the boys staring after her perplexed, but after a few paces she hesitated and turned back.

"Hey, you guys coming or not? Oh, I heard we should hit up Loch Nora. that's where the rich people live, right?" She laughed excitedly again and headed off.

With wide smiles stretching across their faces, Dustin and Lucas glanced at one another, then hurried to catch up with her. Will followed after them, and with a resentful sigh, Mike trudged reluctantly in their wake.

* * *

Hopper placed a yellow marker into the dirt at the base of a dead tree. The sky was now dark and he was using a flashlight to peer around the woods. He spotted another rotting tree and examined it closely before placing another marker into the dirt by its roots. He walked back through Eugene's field wondering about Powell and Callahan's progress when he came to a halt, having heard something in the darkness.

He held his flashlight high staring at the field. His right hand slowly eased over the gun holster on his hip, unsnapping the clasp, and preparing to draw out the gun at the first sign of danger. He listened closely for signs of another presence when suddenly his ears were assaulted by a loud click to his right. He spun toward it, his hand tightening on the butt of his gun, but before he had drawn it from the holster he saw that it was only Eugene's grandson, dressed in a cowboy costume and shooting imaginary bullets from his toy gun.

"You're dead," the kid told him smugly.

Heart racing and flustered Hopper replied, "Yeah, you got me kid."

The boy raised his gun in the air and shot off a volley of celebratory shots, giggling.

"Happy Halloween," Hopper said, still annoyed but with a spark of amusement.

He watched the kid for a moment but it suddenly dawned on him that he was supposed to be spending Halloween with Eleven. He quickly glanced at his watch hoping he still had time to make it home, but he knew before even reading the hands that he was hours late.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

He ran forward and darted to the driver's side of his truck, yanked the door open and climbed in. Eugene's grandson watched as Hopper sped away but after driving a few yards away the truck came to a stop and after a short pause, the truck backed up until Hopper was level with the kid. Quickly placing the truck in park he leaned over to the passenger side door and cranked down the window.

"Hey, kid. Give me some of that candy, would ya?"

The boy shook his head. "No way."

Hopper sat back in his seat and dug inside his pocket. Leaning back over the passenger seat he held up a dollar bill and said, "All right. How 'bout now?"

* * *

On the TV screen in Hopper's cabin Frankenstein's monster stared down into the face of a little girl. The characters had no color and lived in a drab world of black, gray and white.

The little girl spoke sweetly to the monster. "Who are you? I'm Maria. Will you play with me? Would you like one of my flowers?"

Eleven sat curled on the couch, cuddling a teddy bear in her arms. She watched the small child lead the monster to the lake by the hand. Across the room the radio began to emit a rhythmic beeping and she tossed her bear and blanket to the side and ran to it. She peered at the technology for a moment, recognizing the Morse code. She looked to the guide Hopper had pinned on the wall.

Listening to the tones she deciphered the message one letter at a time, whispering, "'L'...'A'...'T'...'E'. Late."

The beeping continued, repeating the message again and she stared down at the radio, hurt and angry. She had been looking forward to Hopper coming home early and spending the night with her like he had promised. She hated being alone all day, caged inside and watching obscure characters on the television. She felt isolated and lonely just as she had when she had lived in the woods scrounging for food and water like some sort of animal.

* * *

_It was dark and snowing lightly as Eleven trekked slowly through the woods. She used to run to her shelter before it got dark, afraid to be caught out in the night, but her spirit was waning and she no longer cared. She carried the carcass of a dead animal over her shoulder. She hated eating them almost as much as she hated killing them. She was not a good cook. Mike had said his mother was a really good cook. She wondered what they were eating right now, but the painful gnawing in her stomach forced her to abandon the thought._

_She was still walking through the woods when she spotted something on the ground ahead of her. Making her way over she saw that it was a snow-covered box. She knelt before it curiously and used her arm to brush the snow away, her bare hands already too numb from the cold to want to touch the snow. She reached down to open the lid and what she found inside made her wonder if she was dreaming._

_A pack of saran-wrapped _Eggos _sat atop a food container. She gaped at it for a moment then quickly glanced around her to see if someone was there. Obviously, somebody must have put it there, but did that mean they knew she was here? Was it meant for her? _Eggos _were her favorite and they did not seem to be the kind of food to be left at random. Was it a trap? Maybe there were cameras watching her. Nevertheless, she was not going to pass up the chance to feast on some actual food. She snatched the waffles and the food container and ran away to hide._

* * *

Eleven stared up at the guide feeling resentful. Hopper was late. Again. With an angry expression she turned the radio off without giving an answer.

* * *

The Loch Nora neighborhood was a high traffic area for trick-or-treaters. Max had been right to suggest going to the high-end neighborhood as her pumpkin and the boys' pillowcases were much heavier with top-notch candy. Flanked by Dustin and Lucas she left the porch of a large home followed by Mike and Will.

"Another full-size. Like, seriously, rich people are such suckers," said Dustin gleefully, but then he turned to Max and asked apprehensively. "Wait. You're not rich, right?"

"No, I live up Old Cherry Road," she answered.

"Oh," he said apologetically.

"No, it's fine," she said, unembarrassed. "I mean, the street's good for skating."

"Hmm. Yeah, totally tubular," Dustin said through a mouthful of chocolate. She gave him a funny look then rolled her eyes. He asked, "What? Did I say that right? Or is it like, tubular."

He drew out the word dramatically.

"It's like - it's like totally tubular," Lucas imitated the surfer dudes he had seen on television.

Finding it amusing Dustin too adopted the accent. "Totally tubular!"

"What a gnarly wave, dude!" Lucas was very into his impersonation.

"Totally brodacious, bro!"

"Stop," laughed Max. "My ears are hurting."

From behind them Will was filming Dustin, Lucas, and Max as they joked around. He turned the camera and caught a shot of Mike looking glum.

"Did you agree to this?" Mike asked him.

Will lowered his camera. "What?"

"To her, joining our party," Mike said with a dark glance at the back of Max's head.

"It's just for Halloween," Will reasoned.

"You should have checked with me."

"Well, they were excited. I guess I thought you'd be okay with it."

"She's ruining the best night of the year," Mike declared. He continued walking dispassionately and Will paused staring after his friend.

Will had noticed for some time now that Mike was different. After leaving the hospital the year before his friends had told him about their week with Eleven and he could tell they were all saddened by her disappearance. Yet it was Mike who seemed to be hurting the most. Lucas and Dustin had told him that Mike had been closest to El and was the first to accept her into their party.

Will had no trouble believing that, as it was one of the things he liked best about Mike. How accepting and kind he was to others. But lately he had been less so, and now he was upset about a new girl who had no friends joining them for a night out on Halloween. Will realized that Mike was truly suffering over El's death.

Mike strolled up the driveway of a large home and readjusting the items in his hands, Will followed. However, as soon as he set foot on the driveway a tall teenager wearing a mask jumped out at him.

"Watch it, Zombie Boy," the tall boy growled at him.

Another teen wearing a mask and wielding a sword snarled, "Trick-or-treat, freak."

"Boo!" a third teen yelled in his face, popping up in front of him out of nowhere.

Will fell back in fright and hit the ground with a thud, dropping the camera and his bag of candy. Looking up into the sky he noticed white flakes floating down onto him. He rolled over and climbed to his feet. Once again, everything around him was cold and bereft of life.

He called out, "Mike? Mike!"

There was no answer and despite what the doctor had told him about reliving memories, Will could not help but feel certain that he was back in the Upside Down. It was very cold with eerie blue lights still shining from the street lamps covered in vines, but they did nothing to quell the darkness around him. There was not a living soul in sight but Will suddenly heard chittering from all around him. He looked at the broken down cars on either side of him expecting monsters to appear.

A new sound erupted in the distance and he looked straight ahead and saw a huge shadow rising in the sky above an abandoned house. It sounded like strong winds bearing down on him. The shadow turned toward him revealing gigantic tentacles that swirled like tornadoes. It was the same shadow he had seen the night before outside his house, only then it had been far away. Now it was practically right above him. The shadow began to come at him and with a gasp Will turned and fled.

He ran down a long trail of steps in the side of the hill and reaching the bottom he hid behind a brick wall, crouched low and hugging his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes and kept quiet, hoping, praying it did not find him. He could hear the shadow moving and it seemed so close. Without warning something grabbed his arm and his eyes popped open in horror to see Mike leaning down over him.

"Will, what's wrong? I couldn't find you, are you hurt?" Mike asked urgently.

Will searched the sky for the shadow but saw no sign of it. The world was warm and alive again with no monsters, but it had felt so real.

Soon Dustin, followed by Lucas and Max had run down the steps to join Mike and Will.

"Holy shit!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Is he okay?" Lucas asked, concerned.

"I don't know," Mike replied as he helped a whimpering and trembling Will to his feet. "I'm gonna get you home, okay? I'm gonna get you home. Hold on."

He had to force Will to his feet as he seemed too scared to want to move, and Dustin rushed forward wanting to help.

"All right, take it easy," Dustin said worriedly.

"I got him. I got him," Mike shot at him.

"Mike?" Dustin said taken aback.

"Keep trick-or-treating. I'm bored anyways," Mike told him resentfully. He wrapped his arm around Will's shoulders and led him back up the steps to the road.

Dustin and Lucas watched their departure and Max turned to them in alarm and asked, "What's wrong with him?"

But they did not offer an answer.

* * *

Music still boomed loudly from Tina's party when the boy who had introduced Nancy to the punch bowl spiked with 'pure fuel' pushed past several people before leaning over and vomiting violently on the ground. A teen dressed as a mime edged around him with a disgusted look passing closely by a car that had just pulled up to the party. In the driver's seat of that car sat Jonathan Byers who shut off the engine and climbed out.

He glanced around uncomfortably before thrusting his fists into his jacket pockets and walking toward the front entrance. He entered the house and after closing the door he pressed himself against the wall to keep from bumping the people who were dancing all around him. The house was extremely crowded and Jonathan had to force air in and out of his lungs, feeling like his chest was growing heavier with lead. Carefully, he made his way through the party scanning for Nancy.

"Nice costume."

Jonathan turned to see a girl his age peering up at him. Her lips and eyes were shaded with heavy black makeup and her dark hair was tousled in erratic waves. She wore long beaded necklaces over a short black dress. She smiled at him.

"Huh?" asked Jonathan caught off guard to have a stranger speaking to him.

"Nice costume," she repeated.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he stuttered. "I'm going as a guy who hates parties."

The girl laughed at his joke, her eyes twinkling with interest. "I'm Samantha."

"Uh, Jonathan," he replied and he reached out to shake her hand.

After releasing his hand Samantha stared up at him expectantly, but she did not say anything and Jonathan was suddenly at a loss for what to say next. He glanced around anxiously and managed to spot Nancy and Steve dancing in the crowd of people. A surge of regret in coming to the party passed through him and he dragged his gaze away from the pair. He turned back to Samantha who was still watching him silently.

"Kiss?" he asked her, but when she raised her eyebrows at him he quickly clarified as he gestured to her costume. "The band."

Samantha laughed again and she bit her lip as she peered up at him under heavy eyelids. Across the room Nancy stumbled past the other partiers toward the kitchen, making her way back over to the punch bowl in order to refill her empty red cup. Steve dashed after her and tried to pull the plastic cup away.

"No, no, no."

"Get off," Nancy snarled as she gripped it tightly.

"No, you've had enough, okay?" he told her sternly.

Nancy shoved at him and said, "Screw you!"

She reached over the counter and filled her cup with the liquid. However, Steve again tried to take the cup from her. She drew the cup back so that he was struggling to get it from her.

"Nance, I'm serious. Hey, hey. Hey, stop! No, I'm serious. Put it down."

"No!"

"Nance, put it down," he said through gritted teeth as the spiked beverage sloshed over their hands.

"Steve, stop!"

"Stop. Stop!"

Steve lost his grip on her and Nancy fell back a step so that the drink splashed over the front of her white dress. She gasped in shock and the crowd exclaimed in amusement at her red-stained top. Nancy glared at Steve.

"What the hell?" she muttered before setting the cup down and marching off.

"Nance," Steve called.

He followed her into a bathroom where she snatched up a white washcloth and leaned over the sink. Steve closed the door as she turned the faucet on and began to soak the cloth.

"Nance, I'm sor-" he paused as he watched her take the wet cloth and scrub haphazardly at the stain. He sighed, realizing just how drunk she was. "That's not coming off, Nance."

"It's coming," she slurred.

"Come on, let me just take you home, okay? Come here," he said gently. "Let me take you home. Come on."

"You wanted - you wanted this," whined Nancy.

"No, I didn't want this. I told you to stop drinking."

"It's bullshit!" she yelled.

"No, it's not bullshit, okay?"

"Bullshit!"

"No, it's not bullshit, Nancy!" Steve said again, getting frustrated.

"No you," Nancy said and despite her drunken state the meaning was quite clear. Steve froze staring down at her and she told him harshly, "You're bullshit."

"W-what?" Steve asked, hurt.

"You're pretending like, like everything's okay," she slurred. "You know, like we…like we didn't like we didn't kill Barb."

Her lovely face contorted with pain, and tears welled up in her eyes. Steve stared down at her dumbfounded as she continued, "Like, like it's great. Like, we're in love and we're partying. Yeah, let's party, huh? Party. We're partying. This i-is bullshit."

Steve felt as if someone had physically punched him in his gut.

"'Like we're in love?'" he repeated, as he caressed her face fearfully, hoping she would come to her senses, kiss him and say that no of course she loved him as much as he loved her.

But with a hard, merciless look on her face she said, "It's bullshit."

"You don't love me?" Steve asked her.

"It's bullshit," she said again.

Steve backed away and for the first time since he had known her he did not want to look at her. Quickly stepping past her, he opened the bathroom door, walked out without a word and left, slamming the door behind him. Nancy stared down at the sink feeling dully that she had said something wrong, but she could not bring herself to care so she retrieved the towel and resumed wiping at the red stain across her blouse.

Steve hurried through the crowd of people making his way toward the exit as his eyes stung with tears that he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for long. As he rushed along he noticed Jonathan before him, but not wanting him to get a close look at his face he ducked around him, his gaze on the floor. Astute as ever though, Jonathan did not need a closer look to be able to tell that the confident and ever-outgoing Steve was upset, and that he did not have Nancy with him. Something had happened between them and Jonathan felt bad that this thought maybe him feel hopeful.

* * *

Halloween beggars slowly began making their way home with buckets full of candy as Will and Mike sat side-by-side on the basement couch. Candy littered the floor and coffee table before them.

Mike listened closely as Will explained, "It's like...like I'm stuck."

"Like, like stuck in the Upside Down?" Mike asked him.

"No," Will sighed as he tried to think of a way to explain the feeling. "You know on a View-Master, when it gets, like…"

"...caught between two slides?" Mike supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, yeah like that. Like one side's our world," Will held his hands out with palms facing each other as if the earth was right in front of him, small enough to fit between his hands. "And the other…"

He paused as he thought of that cold, dreaded place. "The other slide is the Upside Down. And...and there was this noise…"

He thought back to earlier in the night when his reality had been disrupted by the Upside Down and he had heard that strange chirping. " Coming from everywhere. And then I saw something."

Will's heart raced and it seemed as if he had to work harder to breathe as he thought back to the giant shadow that had loomed high above him. He seemed unable to continue so Mike asked tentatively,

"The demogorgon?"

Will shook his head. "No. It was like this, this huge shadow in the sky. Only, i-it was alive, and it was coming for me."

Mike felt scared that Will might think he thought he was crazy or, worse that maybe Will was somehow losing his mind, but he asked nevertheless, "Is this all real? Or is it like the doctor's say, all in your head?"

Will thought about the shadow. He had never seen anything like it, even when he had been in the Upside Down, but it felt real. As real as a demogorgon, and somehow, more terrifying. He finally answered, "I don't know. Just….just please don't tell the others, okay?" He looked up at Mike with pleading eyes. "They won't understand."

Mike gazed sadly at the floor. "Eleven would."

Will thought about the girl that had helped save his life. The girl whom he had never even met. He remembered the sound of her voice in that dreaded place. The feeling of someone with him. Someone kind and gentle. "She would?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. She always did."

He hesitated, afraid to say what he was thinking in case it made him sound insane. But Will had been brave enough to share his thoughts so he said, "Sometimes I feel like I still see her. Like she's still around, but she never is."

Self-conscious, Mike sniffed and shook his head with a small laugh, as if blowing it off as unimportant. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy."

"Me, too," Will replied seriously.

Mike looked back at Will realizing that maybe he did understand in some small way how he felt. "Hey, well, if we're both going crazy, then we'll go crazy together, right?"

Will gave a small laugh, his face breaking out into a wide smile, and he suddenly felt less lonely. "Yeah. Crazy together."

Both looked back at the floor, Will thinking about the shadow again and Mike about Eleven. Neither truly knew how the other felt about their respective ghosts, but they nonetheless felt they understood each better.

Outside of Mike's house Jonathan walked around to the passenger side door of his car and opened it to where Nancy wass turned on her side trying to sleep. He helped her out of the car, pulled her right arm around his neck and shoulders as he wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He began to walk her to her front door but she stumbled and he fell hard to his knees as he struggled to keep her from hitting the ground. He lifted her back up with her left arm now around his shoulders and he wrapped both his arms firmly around her waist. Fortunately, Ted and Karen had not returned from trick-or-treating with their youngest daughter Holly so that Jonathan and Nancy went undiscovered. After some time and much struggle he finally got her into her room and she plopped down onto her bed lying on her back. He reached down and lifted her legs onto the mattress, then he gently removed her boots, setting them aside where she would not trip over them in the morning. Then, he reached down and pulled her bedspread over her.

Nancy's eyes fluttered open and focused on him. She grabbed his arm as he tucked her in.

"Jonathan?"

He gazed down at her. Her face was pained and sad, and he waited for her to continue but her eyelids slipped shut again and her arm dropped from his as she fell back to sleep. His eyes roved over her beautiful face and her stained blouse and he wished he could just stay. Lie down next to her like he did last year so that she could feel safe. He wanted to hold her. But she was not his to hold, so he walked to the door, took one last glance at her sleeping form before flipping off the light and closing the door to go in search of Will.

* * *

Hopper ran quickly up the steps to the porch of his cabin, flashlight in hand. He opened the screen door and quickly knocked out a rhythm on the locked door. There was no sound and thinking that maybe he had knocked too quickly he knocked again, slower this time so that Eleven could make out the pattern. Two quick knocks. Pause. One knock. Pause. Three quick knocks. No sound.

El had heard.

Hopper stroked his forehead, aggravated at himself. "Hey, kid. Open up all right? Look, I-I know I'm late. I got candy here all right? I got all the good stuff."

The door remained closed and there was silence in the cabin. Beginning to feel desperate Hopper said loudly, tapping the door roughly as he punctuated each word, "Please, will you open the door? I'm gonna freeze to death out here."

He heard the latch unlock and he quickly threw the door open and hurled himself inside. Scanning the main room for Eleven he realized that she wasn't there and neither was their television. He could however, hear the muffled sounds of a TV coming from her room and as he made his way over he saw that the cord was stretched across the floor and sticking out from under her closed door.

Leaning against the frame he spoke to her. "Hey, kid. Open up would'ya?"

No response.

"I-I got uh...stuck somewhere and I lost track of time. And I'm sorry."

He did not know what more he could say. He did not want to tell her that something strange was happening again. He did not want his fear to be hers. And besides there were no excuses. He had made a promise. And he broke it. That was something you just could not do. Not with Eleven.

"El, would you please open the door? El?"

When she did not answer he stalked over to the couch and plopped down with the bucket of candy he had swindled Eugene's grandson for.

"Alright. I'm just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy," he picked out a candy at random and tore open the wrapper. "I'm gonna get fat. It's very unhealthy to leave me out here. Could have a heart attack or something. But, you know, you do what you want."

He popped the candy into his mouth, but El still refused to acknowledge him. Deciding he definitely hated the silent treatment he flicked the wrapper aggressively at the floor.

From inside her room, Eleven listened as a male announcer advertised on the TV screen, "One quarter pound of all-American beef, fresh-cut tomato, and four strips of crispy bacon."

"Did someone say bacon?" exclaimed the voices of an overly excited man and woman.

Eleven, who was sitting directly on the floor in front of the screen flipped the channel with a twist of her head and other advertiser began, "Refreshing lemon-"

But this was not what El wanted and she again flicked her head to the side and the channel changed to a woman's voice blaring out, "...and they're perfect for dunking. Mmm!"

Another channel switch and suddenly the screen turned to static. Satisfied, El pulled a blindfold up to her face and tied it at the back of her head. With the world blacked out and the sound of the static feeling her ears she felt into the in-between. She thought of the face she most wanted to see and then with her consciousness she reached out to the gaps between the frequencies. She reached into those gaps, sending her mind there until she felt herself enter a void. A silent, empty place. She stood in shallow water that never seemed to leave her feet wet and she looked around until she heard Mike's voice.

"It's day three hundred and fifty three," he was saying.

She looked around and found him sitting in the tent he had made for her last year when she spent a week hiding in his basement. He sat cross-legged among the blankets holding a radio by his face. He was speaking into it. He was speaking to her.

"I had a bad day today. I don't know. I...I guess I wish you were here. I mean, we all do. If you're out there, just please give me a sign."

She knelt before him, closer than she had ever come before whenever she visited him. Slowly, he glanced up until he was looking directly into her face. For an instant, it was as if he could truly see her.

"Mike," she said.

In his basement Mike lowered the radio staring into the space before him and though he could see no one in the room, he felt something shimmering in the area around him. As if something intangible was there. A whisper. A presence.

"Eleven?"

In the void, El reached out her hand to touch his cheek. Her fingers trembled slightly at the thought of feeling his warm skin, but before her hand had reached his face a look of disappointment crossed his features and he looked down, shoving the antenna of his radio down and turning it off. Leaving it behind in the tent, Mike climbed to his feet exasperated with himself. He walked away, leaving Eleven staring sadly after him in the void.

Pulling the blindfold from her head, she sobbed in silence, not caring about the blood trickling from her nose and feeling lonelier than she had ever felt in her very lonely life.

* * *

Dustin walked up to his house, swinging about a pillowcase of candy that he would normally be rushing home to sort through, thinking about Max Mayfield and how she had laughed at his surfer impression.

"Tubular. Tubular," he muttered under his breath. Maybe if he improved his impersonation she would like him more? He tried again with more gusto. "Tubular."

As he walked up to the porch he suddenly heard a strange sound coming from behind him. He turned, but all he saw was their tin trash can sitting by the garage.

"Mews. Is that-?"

Suddenly the trash can rocked violently and Dustin dropped his bag of candy in utter alarm, gasping. Wanting to be holding a weapon in his hands, any weapon, he reached around his back for his makeshift proton blaster. The chirping noise still sounded from the can and it rocks softly.

Dustin slowly inched toward the trash knowing there was something inside. He reasoned that it must be small to fit in the can, especially since he knew it was already half full of trash., but it didn't stop him from thinking of a horde of those demogorgons.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit," he muttered under his breath and his heart rate picked up speed.

With a fierce warrior-like cry he quickly removes the lid from the trash can, flinging it to the side and aiming his useless proton gun down at whatever horror awaited him. As he caught sight of the source of the noise lying among their trash his cry died out and he stared down blankly.

Dustin softly uttered, "Holy shit."


	4. Chapter 3 - The Pollywog

**Chapter Three - The Pollywog**

Attempting to be as silent as possible, Dustin slowly entered into his home, his eyes darting about for signs of his mother. He could hear the television set from the living room, and hoping his mother was engrossed in whatever show she was into these days, he crept toward his bedroom, his pillowcase full of candy and his home-made ghost trap clutched tightly in his hand.

Before he had taken more than a few paces Claudia Henderson appeared with a gleeful call, "Dusty!"

She rushed over to him wearing a headband with cat ears on her head.

"Dusty, how was it?"

"H-h-how was what?" Dustin stuttered.

"'How was what?'" she mocked gently, amused. "The greatest night of the year of course!"

Their cat, Mews, crowded around her feet clearly trying to regain her attention.

"Oh. Oh yeah, it was, it was uh, tubular," Dustin fumbled for an answer as he tried to think back to the night he had been looking forward to for months. All that came to mind was Max.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Claudia, concern suddenly etched across her face.

"Nothing," Dustin quickly flashed a wide grin at her.

His mother was not buying it. "Did something happen?"

"No. What? No." Why, oh why, did his voice have to become high-pitched now?

"Are you constipated again?"

"No! Mom!"

"Okay, you're acting weird," she accused him.

"I am not acting weird!" Dustin yelled back defensively.

Suddenly, the ghost trap he held rattled violently, as if something inside was attempting to burst out. Claudia gave a small shriek of alarm as Dustin tightened his grip on the contraption.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, then as Mews hissed aggressively at the trap, Dustin forced out a laugh and said, "Awesome, right? Yeah, I-I rigged the trap with, uh...a motor to make it look like I caught a ghost. Just like the movie."

Claudia gave a nervous laugh as she eyed the rattling device. "Oh, Dusty."

Dustin laughed with her. "Yeah!"

Soon both broke down into wild giggles, Claudia in delight at the ingenuity of her son whom she never knew what to expect, and Dustin high with nerves.

"Funny. Look at that. Look at that," he muttered aimlessly as he turned and made his way to his bedroom still pretending to chuckle with glee.

Finally making it to his room Dustin slid his door closed, locked it and then raised the trap up before him and hissed in a whisper. "I told you to keep quiet. All you had to do was stay still for one minute. One minute!"

Setting the trap aside, he quickly removed the covering from the aquarium containing his turtle. He reached down inside and lifted the reptile by his shell.

"Sorry, Yertle. Temporary eviction, buddy." He set Yertle on the rug by his feet then retrieved his ghost trap and, opening the trapdoors, he overturned the device and unceremoniously dumped its occupant into Yertle's vacated premises.

A small creature about the size of his hand fell out onto its back before quickly righting itself. It was round with a tail nearly twice as long as its body and two legs near the front of its body. It had a sickly green-yellow coat, covered in a slimy, mucous lining. There were no discernible eyes or ears, but as it shimmied nearer to the glass facing Dustin, it let out soft warbling noises from a toothless mouth. It then turned to its right and took cover under one of Yertle's carved-out wooden trunks.

"What are you, little guy? What were you doing in my trash?" asked Dustin in fascination as he watched the odd creature. It suddenly occurred to him that he might have been scavenging for food. "You hungry?"

Turning quickly, he dumped all of his candy from his pillowcase onto his bed covers. Sifting through the assortment he decided on a _Three Musketeer_. Breaking off a few pieces from the candy bar he dropped them into the aquarium. As he watched the small slug-like creature shimmied into view at the edge of the trunk's shadow. He took a bite out of the candy bar he still held as he watched the animal and he smiled warmly down at his new little friend.

"Nougat," he said as the creature's body turned up toward him, and though he had no visible eyes that Dustin could see, he knew the creature was peering at him. "Go on, eat."

But as the creature moved back out into the light he gave a small screech and hurriedly scuttled back into the shade of the log as if in pain or distress. Dustin glanced at the lamp giving off warm, red light hanging over the aquarium.

"Too hot?" He reached up and switched the light off. As soon as he had, the creature once again scuttled forward, this time with no retreat. "Sorry about that, little guy."

The creature began to eat the candy hungrily and crouching low to watch Dustin grinned in approval. "You like nougat, too, huh?"

The creature faced him and gave another soft warble as if in reply.

"You're pretty cute, you know that? I'm glad I found you," said Dustin earnestly with a chuckle. He peered down at the wrapper of the candy bar in his hand. "D'Artagnan. I'm gonna call you D'Artagnan."

A few hours later, Dustin lay stretched out on his bed, candy wrappers littered across his bed and floor. A book about reptiles lay open on his chest which rose and fell with the soft breathing of a deep sleep. In the aquarium, D'Artagnan emitted painful warbles as his body seemed to convulse from within. Suddenly, the creature's formless head lifted up toward Dustin's ceiling letting out a painful shriek that went unheard by the slumbering boy.

* * *

_Deep in the woods on a snowy night, Hopper came to an empty wooden box sitting on the ground, one he had fashioned and placed there earlier in the week after hearing a strange report from a hunter at the station. In one hand he held a flashlight and in the other a food container. From behind a large tree, Eleven watched in absolute silence as the man placed the food in the wooden box, shut the lid, and then paused as if in deep thought before walking away._

_Eleven watched his retreating back and for the first time in days her primary thought was not food. Instead, she thought of how cold she was as she stood there shivering. She thought of those men from the lab who came to get her and Mike and their friends in that junkyard as they crouched in hiding on that old bus. She thought of the yelps and scuffles she had heard before Hopper's hairy face had appeared and yelled for them to come with him. Of how she had somehow, inexplicably, known that they were saved. She thought of the day when she had come out of the void, after finding Will in the Upside Down, and Hopper had removed his own shirt and wrapped it around her cold, wet shoulders without a word. She thought of her first few days in the woods as she had clung to that same shirt trying to stay warm and realizing it still smelled like the man with the hairy face._

_Walking back to his truck, Hopper suddenly heard loud rustling in the woods at his back. The snow crunched as if under lightweight footsteps and he quickly turned peering into the dark trees behind him. After a moment Eleven stepped out from behind a tree, wearing the same dirty, pink dress and his dark plaid shirt she had been wearing over a month ago, along with the stolen coat and hat which the hunter had reported missing after an encounter with a strange short-haired girl living in the woods. The other cops had laughed at the man's story of how the girl had made a log fly at him, knocking him out, but Hopper had known instantly that the hunter was not suffering from delusions, though he had hinted to the enraged man he thought as much._

_Eleven had lived. And now she stood before him. The girl that had led him to Will Byers. The girl who had saved Michael Wheeler and his friends, sacrificing herself to do so. The girl who he had sold to Brenner in exchange for Will. And the same girl he had thought of nearly every night for the past month, whom he had thought lost forever._

_This girl._

_Living alone in the cold, snowy woods in a tattered dress surviving off rodents and who knew what else. Hopper suddenly felt small and undeserving. To be the one she had decided to place her trust in, humbled him to the core. He quickly removed his hat from his head, wanting her to see his face clearly. For her to see that he had every intention of protecting her and that her trust was not misplaced. _

_She merely gazed back at him, shivering with cold and fear, wondering if she'd made the right choice._

* * *

"Rise and shine."

Hopper's voice broke through Eleven's slumber, and her eyes popped open, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom as she lay warm in her bed. But just as suddenly the night before came to mind and she turned to her side, facing the wall with her back to him.

"So that's it, huh? You're still not talking?" asked Hopper from the doorway, but she did not respond. "Alright."

He turned away but paused then turned back and leaned forward, his hands on the frame of her door. "I guess I'm just gonna have to, uh...enjoy this triple-decker Eggo extravaganza on my own…"

Despite her anger, Eleven's eyes peered out to her peripheral, though she could not see him.

Moments later, she sat across from him at the eating table fully-dressed as he cut exuberantly through a stack of Eggo waffles decked out in whipped cream and candy. As Hopper licked the butter knife clean, El picked out a piece of waffle and began to eat.

"Mmm! Mmm! Good right?" Hopper said loudly. "I dunno, you know the great thing about it? It's only eight thousand calories."

El merely stared at him, unimpressed, and still mad about the night before. He glanced back down at the waffles and began to cut them again unable to hold her gaze. As he did he subtly peered over at the television cord sticking out from beneath her door.

"You visited him again last night?"

El too looked at the cord then turned back to the table. Her anger quickly fell away to weary sadness. "He says he needs me."

"Want me to go check on him?"

What use would that be? Mike wasn't in any danger, but she sensed something in him. Something far deeper and more complex than she understood. She sensed a deeper kind of wound in him. Not a bleeding kind but a sucking kind. Like it was sucking the happiness away. She knew how it felt but she didn't understand it. And she didn't think Hopper would either, so she shook her head no.

Hopper folded his arms on the table before him and leaning toward her he said, "I know that you miss him, alright? But it's too dangerous. You're the last thing he needs right now. You're gonna see him. Soon. and not just in that head of yours. You're gonna see him in real life. I feel like I'm making progress with these people."

Instantly the anger was back, and El leaned forward with a fierce look in her eyes. "Friends don't lie."

"What?" asked Hopper, taken aback.

"You say 'soon' on day twenty-one. You say 'soon' on day two hundred and five. You now say 'soon' on day three hundred and twenty six?"

"What is this? You're like counting the days now like you're some kind of prisoner?" He began arranging his uniform shirt, suddenly wishing he was at work.

"When is 'soon'?" she asked.

Hopper gave a small, noncommittal shrug and answered slowly. "'Soon' is when it's not dangerous anymore."

"When?" she persisted.

Losing some composure Hopper replied, "I don't know."

"On day five hundred?"

"I don't know."

"On day six hundred?" she asked growing angrier by the second.

"I don't know," Hopper said more firmly.

"Day 700? On day 800?" Now she hit the table so that her fork rattled off the plate.

"I don't know!" Hopper shouted.

"I need to see him! Tell me!"

Hopper yelled over her, "I said I don't k-"

El suddenly threw her head back violently and the triple decker stack of waffles slid across the table crashing through the other items before hitting Hopper, dropping whipped cream, candy and pieces of Eggo into his lap. He leapt up from his seat staring down at the mess over his uniform.

"Oh! Shit!" He glared back up at Eleven in furious disbelief. "Shit!"

Eleven pushed away from the table and standing before him she said with a dark look. "Friends don't lie."

Then she stormed away from him back into her room and with a wave of her arm her door slammed shut. Back at the table Hopper kicked one of the legs, so that the remaining items clattered across the surface.

* * *

At the Byers' house three cars were parked outside the front door, Joyce's, Jonathan's and Bob's. Within the warm home, Joyce frantically searched through the cushions and pillows on her living room couch.

"Jesus. Have you seen them?" she called.

Jonathan, tired and slightly exasperated, called back, "We're looking, Mom."

Rummaging through his mom's purse, Will replied, "Yeah, we're...we're looking."

"A-ha! Found'em!" chuckled Bob triumphantly.

"Oh!" breathed Joyce in relief as she straightened up.

"Hiding under some jeans, sneaky little buggers."

Joyce took the keys and stretched up to place a kiss on Bob's cheek as Jonathan gave Bob a dark look from behind her back.

"Thank you. Thank you. You're a life saver," she told him.

Joyce turned back to her children and asked Jonathan, "Can you take Will to school today? I cannot be late again."

"He's staying over now?" questioned Jonathan under his breath.

"Can you just take Will, please?" came her hard response.

"I can take him," Bob piped up.

Joyce looked at him hesitantly. "Will you make sure he gets in okay?"

"Yeah, of course." He turned to address Will. "What do you say, big guy? Wanna go for a ride in the Bobmobile?"

Will looked to his mother at that suggestion, ready to share a laugh, but she only smiled encouragingly and so, deciding to keep the humor to himself, he grinned back at Bob shyly.

* * *

Dustin rode his bike quickly through Hawkin's downtown, hurrying so he wouldn't be too late for Mr. Clarke's class. Pulling to a stop in front of the public library he hopped off and ran up the front steps into the building, abandoning his bike right on the walkway. Already knowing what he was after Dustin searched along the shelves pulling out one book after another, as Marissa, the librarian, watched him suspiciously from behind. Having made his selections he carried them over to her desk and dropped them before her with a bright, toothy grin.

She glanced momentarily at the books with raised eyebrows then looked up at him and said, "Mr. Henderson, you know the rules. Five at a time."

Dustin peered down at the stack between them.

"Yep." Pointing out each one he counted, "One, two, three, four, and five."

He looked back at her and grinned proudly.

Reaching over to a check-out card she had waiting beside her, she corrected, "Ten. You already have five books checked out."

Dustin raised his hand placatingly. "My mistake. However...I am on a curiosity voyage, and I need my paddles to travel. These books…" He pointed at the stack and continued urgently, "These books are my paddles."

"Five at a time," she enunciated each word.

"Are you shitting me?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, affronted.

Dustin suddenly looked behind her and his eyes squinted in confusion. He pointed out something above her head and muttered, "What the hell is-"

However, as she turned to see what he was looking at he quickly gathered the books into his arms and made a break for it.

Marissa snapped back around and shouted after him, "Mr. Henderson!"

Running for the exit, Dustin screamed back, "I need my paddles!"

* * *

Will stared out the passenger window of Bob's car at the passing landscape as music played over the radio, lost in his thoughts.

"Was that you I heard milling around last night, or was that a ghost?" asked Bob.

"Yeah. Me, probably," Will replied softly.

Bob nodded understandingly. "Another nightmare?"

"Um...no," Will said. He knew it was a lie but somehow it didn't feel like one.

Bob paused for a moment, wondering if he'd be too far out of line to continue, but wanting to make some headway with at least one of Joyce's sons, he asked, "Did I ever tell you about Mr. Baldo?"

"Mr. Baldo?" Will repeated ironically.

"Yeah. I was a little younger than you, standing in line for the Ferris wheel at the Roane County fair."

Will settled back to listen. "Mmm-hmm."

"And suddenly, I feel this fat white glove tap me on the shoulder. I spin around and there he is. Mr. Baldo." Wiggling his fingers at Will, he impersonated a clown. "'H-hey kiddo, would you like a balloon?'"

Will's face broke out into a grin holding back a laugh.

"Go ahead, laugh. It's funny," Bob chuckled. Then, he said more seriously, "It wasn't funny back then, I can tell you that. I couldn't get him outta my head. Every night, he would come to me in my dreams. And every night when he came to me...I ran. It got so bad that I made my mom stay in the room with me until I could fall asleep every night."

The urge to laugh faded and Will no longer thought Bob's story sounded silly. "Really?"

"Really. It went on like that for months. And then one day, the nightmares suddenly stopped."

Will looked at Bob interested. Bob asked him, "Wanna know how?"

"How?"

"Well, I fell asleep...and just like always, Mr. Baldo came to me," Bob thought back to the evil-looking clown that had haunted him for so long. "Only this time, I didn't run. This time, I stood my ground. I just looked at Mr. Baldo, in his stupid face, and I said, 'Go away. Go away!' And just like that, he was gone. Never saw him again."

Will, who had listened to his story as he pictured the shadow monster from his nightmares, looked back at him amazed.

"Easy-peasy, right?" Bob said peering down at him.

Will nodded slowly and repeated. "Easy-peasy."

Bob gave him a small smile and with a snap of his fingers he said again, "Just like that."

* * *

"I still don't get why they call him 'Zombie Boy'," Max stated as she strode slowly down the school hallway with Lucas on their way to first period. "I mean, I get it. He got lost in the woods for like a week or something, but why's he a zombie? Because everyone thought he was dead?"

Lucas said uncomfortably, "Yeah, I mean, we had a funeral for him and everything."

"After a week?" asked Max skeptically.

"Well, see, some other kid drowned at the quarry. We thought it was Will because his body was super decomposed," Lucas stated and even he had to admit it sounded like reading off of a script.

Now Max was entirely disbelieving. "What? Okay, that's not funny."

Lucas sighed wearily. "It's not a joke, alright? It's public knowledge. You can ask anybody. Except Will, because he is really sensitive about it. All right?"

Max gave a small nod and though she would never have admitted it something about the story gave her the chills.

"Okay," she said as she recovered herself. Then she and Lucas continued on to class.

Outside the school entrance walkway, Bob's Camry pulled to a stop and Will climbed out as his mother's boyfriend piped, "Have a great day kiddo!"

Will nodded and headed into school, securing his backpack on his shoulders as students walked all around him. He could not help feeling as if all their eyes were following his movements or that their muttered conversations were about him. He felt exposed and he wished he could turn himself invisible, or better yet learn not to care what they think, like his brother Jonathan.

Before long Will, Mike, Lucas and Max had all settled into first period with their fellow classmates and Mr. Clarke was saying, "The case of Phineas Gage is one of the great medical curiosities of all time. Phineas was a railroad worker in 1848 who had a nightmarish accident. A large iron rod was driven completely through his head."

Mr. Clarke drew a line through the slide being projected on the pull-down screen with a dry-erase marker. Walking around the projector he continued, "Phineas miraculously survived. He seemed fine. And physically, yes, he was. But his injury resulted in a complete change to his personality."

Though Will, Mike and Lucas were all paying close attention to the lesson Max found that all she could think about was the story Lucas had told her about Will, and the other dead kid who had been found and mistaken for him. Though she had promised not to ask Will about it she couldn't help that she burned with curiosity. As she stared at the back of Will's head she longed to ask him more about the events of last year. Suddenly, Will turned and noticed her looking at him and she quickly turned away.

"So much so that friends who knew him started referring to him as 'no longer Gage'," Mr. Clarke added. Will faced the front of the class again. He knew why Max had been staring at him. It was the same reason everyone else did.

Mr. Clarke said, "At the time, this was known as the American Crowbar case. Although it wasn't a-"

With a bang the classroom door burst open and Dustin darted into the room, completely out of breath.

"I am sorry Mr. Clarke," he panted. "Really, I am so sorry. Please continue with the class. Don't mind me."

The class and teacher watched as he shrugged out of the straps of his backpack and took his seat.

"Really, continue please. Thanks."

Deciding not to comment, Mr. Clarke went on. "Although it wasn't a crowbar, it was a rod, as I said."

Leaving over into the aisle Dustin whispered to Mike, Will and Lucas, "We have to meet. All of us. At lunch, AV Club."

"Why?" Mike whispered back.

"I have something that you won't believe," he told them mysteriously. The others returned their focus to Mr. Clarke as Dustin turned in his seat and whispered loudly down the aisle at Max, "AV Club. Lunch."

"Dustin!" snapped Mr. Clarke, more than a little peeved.

"Yes, my lord?" Dustin responded as he snapped back around.

"Would you care to join the class now?"

"Please, yes," he hurriedly reached down to retrieve his books from his bag.

"The case of Phineas Gage."

"Phineas Gage."

"Page one oh four."

"One oh four. One oh four," Dustin repeated.

"Focus," Mr. Clarke told him sternly.

"Focusing. Focusing."

Dustin set his books on his desk, but as Mr. Clarke went on with his lesson he turned back to Max and mouthed again, "AV Club."

She gave him a thumbs up and an ironic smile. He grinned back widely, pleased, and returning the gesture he finally settled back to listen to the lesson.

"And he began to curse, using terrible words that I don't dare repeat here," Mr. Clarke was saying.

The bag at Dustin's feet suddenly jostled from within and muffled warbles issued from it though only he had heard. He quickly reached down and zipped the bag closed.

* * *

Within the Hawkin's police department Hopper listened closely as Powell informed him, "And we found some more by Gilbert's farm."

"Some real nasty stuff. It was sticky," Callahan commented as Hopper made a mark on the map of Hawkins he was referencing.

"Alright. Where else?" He looked back at his officers when they did not respond.

Powell glanced down at his notes then back up to him. "That was it, Chief."

"That was it, or you just get tired of looking?" Hopper grouched.

"It was getting dark."

"I mean, it was really dark," whined Callahan.

"They're called flashlights, you dipshits," Hopper growled.

"Oh, okay," Callahan muttered in offense. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"More lady problems, Chief?" asked Powell slyly.

However, after staring at the map hanging on the wall for a moment Hopper suddenly tore it down and shoved Callahan off the desk he was sitting on. He laid the map flat across the surface and using a red marker he drew circles connecting the blue x's he had marked over the affected locations. The circles formed a concentric pattern until the tip of his pen landed at the center where a small rectangular piece of paper had been glued to the map to represent the building that existed on that land. With a dark glower, Hopper folded the map and retrieved his coat.

"Hey, Chief!" Powell called to him as he strode away. "Where you going?"

Flo handed him the keys to his truck as he kicked his way through the half-sized swinging door and continued on without a word to his officers.

"You want us to go back out there?"

"Why's he gotta kick the door?" Callahan griped.

"Hey, Chief!" Powell called again, but Hopper had already left.

* * *

In the cabin in the woods, Eleven lay on her side in bed staring at her reflection in the screen of the television that was her only escape from her reality. She raised herself to her elbows thinking. Before long she had grabbed her blindfold and was tying it around her head over her eyes. She took a breath, folded her hands in front of her, trying to focus her mind, but before two seconds had even passed she yanked the cloth off unhappily.

She was tired of being a ghost.

Slowly, she opened the door of her bedroom and stepped out wearing her jacket over her clothes. She glanced around the cabin as she walked to the front door, half-expecting Hopper to appear in the kitchen or burst out of his room. As she came to the door she eyed the many locks Hopper had put in place so many months ago.

* * *

_Hopper opened the door of an old musty cabin. Before stepping through the threshold he tapped his boots on the door frame, knocking the snow from his boots, then entered and removed his coat as behind him Eleven too tapped her feet on the door frame, mimicking him._

_"My granddad used to live here. Long time ago," Hopper told her as she paced around the dirty cabin taking in the many cobwebs and moldy smelling boxes, lamps, and torn curtains. "I mainly just use it for storage now. Lot of history here."_

_Hopper removed a box covered in pictured flowers from a chair and set it on the floor. He looked over at her and asked, "So, uh...what d'you think?"_

_She turned her gaze back to him, watching him in confusion._

_'It's a work-in-progress. You know, it's, uh...it takes a little imagination," he admitted a little self-consciously. "But, uh...once we fix it up, it's gonna be nice."_

_He pulled down a cobweb then shook it loose from his hand._

_"Real nice," he repeated with a slightly nervous grin as he watched her staring around at the place. Then he told her, "This is your new home."_

_Eleven looked at him once more. She felt something warm stir within her and she almost smiled as she said the word for herself. "Home."_

_A moment later Hopper was rummaging through a case of old records when he pulled out an album by Jim Croce titled, _You Don't Mess Around With Jim.

_"Oh, yeah. Yeah. yeah," he glanced back at Eleven holding up the record for her to see. "Alright, this...this is music."_

_He pulled the disc out and placed it on the turn-table of the record player. He set the stylus on the record and turned back to El as music filled the cabin. The loudness of the beat gave El a small start and she sat up straight. El watched Hopper in amazement as he began to snap his fingers, tapped his feet on the floor and wiggled his hips. She frowned in half-confusion, half-amusement, as he danced for a moment before straightening up._

_He gave a quick nod then said in a business-like tone, "Alright." He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Let's get to work."_

_The work was long and hard. Eleven inhaled much dust that day, as she removed filthy blankets from the furniture and swept a broom across the floor. She kept receiving lungfuls of flying particles whenever she passed Hopper as he beat the curtains clean. At one point Hopper took the broom from her and demonstrated the proper way to hold it and sweep. She watched him momentarily but quickly snatched the broom back in order to copy the movement, and he had resumed his own duties with a pleased eye at how fast and eager of a learner she was._

_Once Hopper had beat the dust off the mattress and placed clean sheets and blankets on the bed he had told her it would be hers and she tested it out by sitting on it with a bounce and running her hands over the colorful quilt, a small, excited grin struggling to break out on her face._

_As time passed Hopper began to teach her things, not just about words, or reading, or writing, but about radios, and communicating secretly with what he called Morse code. He often came home from work with things for their cabin, and one night she glanced back to see him putting away boxes of food as she pieced together a puzzle he had pulled out of storage for her. Her attention on her puzzle she did not notice him put a box of Eggos in the freezer box. One day she looked up as he carried in a large and heavy looking box and set it down before she realized it was a television set like the one she had seen in Mike's house. She watched as he set antennas on the top and plugged it in._

_One night while she slept Hopper began fashioning a complex device out of a mousetrap and bullet shells. The next morning he took El out into the woods outside their cabin and as he explained what he was doing he coiled wire around a tree trunk, low to the ground, securing it with nails. He stretched the wire to another tree where the mousetrap had been nailed low on the trunk. He sat on the snowy ground._

_"Give me those, okay." He took the pliers he had asked her to hold and used it to clip the wire from the rest of the reel as he explained, "Now, this is called a trip wire. It's like an alarm."_

_He secured the end of the wire to the mouse trap._

_"You, uh, set it up like this. And then, anybody gets close, it's gonna make a loud noise like, uh, gunfire. Bang!" he said loudly, and El gave a small start. He chuckled apologetically, placing his hand on hers to remind her she was safe, then he gave a sniff and told her seriously, "Those bad men aren't gonna find ya. Alright? Not way the hell out here. We'll take some precautions. There's gonna be a couple ground rules."_

_He met her eyes with a stern gaze and she knew he wanted her full attention._

_Back inside the cabin at the dinner table he placed a sheet of notepad paper in front of her with rules written out._

_"Rule number one," he began. "Always keep the curtains drawn."_

* * *

Eleven thought of that sheet of paper as she threw the dark curtains open and slid the blinds up, letting bright sunlight shine over her from outside.

* * *

_"Rule number two, only open the door if you hear my secret knock."_

_Hopper performed a rhythmic pattern of two knocks, pause, one knock, pause, three quick knocks._

* * *

The sound of that knock filled her ears as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

* * *

_"And rule number three," Hopper finished. "Don't ever go out alone, especially not in the daylight."_

* * *

Eleven stepped out onto the porch, the sun beaming down high in the sky. She turned and looked back at the cabin that had been both home and prison for the past year.

* * *

_"That's it," Hopper said easily. "Three rules. I call'em the, uh…'Don't Be Stupid' rules. 'Cause we're not stupid. Right?"_

* * *

Eleven thought of Hopper's face when he had asked if they were stupid. With a defiant glare at the tripwire he had placed for her protection she said, "Not stupid."

And lifting her leg she stepped over it and continued on through the woods leaving her cabin without a backwards glance.

* * *

Running across the school gymnasium, dribbling a basketball between his legs with sweat pouring down his back under his t-shirt, Steve jogged toward the opposing end of the court. It wasn't long before the new guy, Billy Hargrove, was crouched in front of him once again. Steve gave an inward sigh. Billy had been hounding him the entire game and while Billy seemed to be barely out of breath, Steve was growing tired. But he was unwilling to admit it so he performed some fancy dribble-work as he took a moment to think out his strategy. Cutting to the right, and turning his body to keep Billy away from the ball he tried to edge past him as his opponent pressed his bare, sweaty chest against him forcefully, trying to break past his defense.

"Harrington, right?" Billy muttered as he chewed his gum. "I heard you used to run this school. That true? King Steve they used to call you, huh?"

Steve could smell the mint on Billy's breath and he leaned his head away.

"Then you turned bitch."

"Hey, maybe you should just shut up and just play the game," Steve griped in frustration.

Suddenly, Billy shoved him aside and Steve fell hard to the floor as his opponent pounced on the ball and dribbled it back up the court at a run. Steve scrambled back to his feet as Billy leapt into the air with perfect form, and swooping the ball under his right knee to his other hand, he took his shot and the ball went straight through the net without even a glance on the rim.

"Whoo!" Billy exclaimed as one of his teammates clapped his hand. "That's what I'm talking about! Whoo!"

He stared across the gym at Steve with a gloating smirk as Steve bent over with his hands on his knees groaning inwardly and trying to catch his breath.

"Steve?"

Steve turned and found Nancy standing beside the bleachers, her school books tucked under her arm, watching him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked after following her outside.

"What do you think?" she asked in annoyance. "Where were you this morning? I missed first period."

"I figured Jonathan would take you," Steve muttered dispassionately, not caring enough to apologize for not picking her up for school as he always had.

Nancy blinked in confusion. "Wha-what are you talking about?"

"Jesus, you really can't handle your alcohol," Steve scoffed. "Uh...you remember going to Tina's party last night, right?"

"Yes," she said somewhat reluctantly.

"And then what?"

"I...remember dancing, and...spilling some punch. You got mad at me because I was drunk…" Nancy frowned as she tried to piece together the jumbled haze of the night before. Steve scoffed again. "And then you took me home."

Steve pulled the towel from his right shoulder and used both hands to drape it over the back of his neck as he said, "Nah, see that's where your mind gets a little bit fuzzy. That was your other boyfriend. That was...that was Jonathan."

He said it quickly, as if the words burned to say them and Nancy noticed that he wasn't meeting her eyes.

'I don't understand," she said, baffled.

"It's pretty simple, Nancy. You were just telling it like it is." He still wouldn't look her in the eyes.

"What?"

His gaze rested on the brick wall behind her somewhere above her head as he explained, "Uh, apparently, uh...we killed Barb and I don't care, 'cause I'm bullshit...and our whole...our whole relationship is bullshit, and...I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Oh, yeah, also, you don't love me."

With that last statement his eyes bored into hers.

"I was drunk, Steve. I don't remember any of that," Nancy said defensively.

"So that makes everything that you said...it's what? Just bullshit, too?" he asked angrily.

"Yes!" she replied confidently.

"Well, then tell me," he told her, hating how desperate he sounded.

"Tell you what?"

Half-embarrassed and feeling like he might cry he croaked out, "You love me."

Nancy mouthed incredulously for a moment, a strange, confused smile playing around on the edges of her lips as if she wasn't sure if he was being serious or simply teasing her. But beneath it he saw the doubt flicker in her eyes, and she realized he had read into her hesitation.

"R-really?" she played it off, attempting to buy herself some time to formulate a response.

A door banged open somewhere and suddenly one of Steve's teammates appeared.

"Harrington!" he shouted angrily. Nancy and Steve peered over at the flustered teen. "Dude, we need you, man! That douchebag's killing us! Let's go!"

"Alright!" Steve yelled back.

"Come on!" his teammate urged impatiently.

Steve turned back to Nancy waiting for her answer. She slowly faced him and reluctantly met his eyes, but this time it was she who couldn't hold his gaze and she stared sadly down at her feet.

Steve rolled his eyes and walked away from her saying over his shoulder, "I think that you're bullshit."

Nancy did not respond. She merely gazed shamefully at the ground.

* * *

During the lunch period, Dustin, Lucas, Will, Mike and Max gathered around Dustin's ghost trap which he opened to present his newfound friend.

As the strange creature mosied around inside the trap Dustin told them, "His name is D'artagnan."

He reached in and pulled the animal out so that he was sitting in the palm of his hand. The others watching silently, Dustin smiled over at Lucas and said, "Cute, right?"

"D'Artagnan?" asked Mike.

"Dart for short," Dustin replied.

"And he was in your trash?" Max clarified skeptically.

"Foraging for food." He glanced down at the creature in his hand then asked her, "You wanna hold him?"

"No, no," she shook her head quickly.

Dustin leaned forward saying excitedly, "He doesn't bite."

"I don't want to-" But as she put her hands up to ward him off he slipped the small creature into her hands and she exclaimed in disgust, "Oh God, he's slimy!"

She quickly passed the animal to Lucas who rose to his feet, repulsed.

"Ugh, he's like a living booger." Lucas passed Dart across the table to Will like he was a slimy, hot potato.

Will's face scrunched up in revulsion. "Ugh, oh God!"

Will dropped Dart into Mike's hands who lifted him up to eye level and scrutinized him, somewhat fascinated.

"What is he?" he asked Dustin uncertainly.

"My question exactly," said Dustin, grinning in delight. He pulled out his stolen library books and began to explain his research. "At first, I thought it was some type of pollywog."

"Pollywog?" asked Max.

"It's another word for tadpole," Dustin clarified. "A tadpole is the larval stage of a toad-"

"I-I know what a tadpole is," Max cut across him.

"Alright, then you know that most tadpoles are aquatic, right?" Dustin pointed out as he opened one of his books to a bookmarked page. "Well, Dart, he isn't. He doesn't need water."

"Yeah, but aren't there non-aquatic pollywogs?" asked Lucas.

"Terrestrial pollywogs? Yep. Two to be exact." He opened to another bookmarked page. "_Indirana semipalmata_. And the _Adenomera andreae_. One's from India, one's from South America. So how did one end up in my trash?"

"Maybe some scientists brought it here, and it escaped?" suggested Max.

"Do you guys see that? Looks like something's moving inside of it," Mike drew their attention back to Dart.

They all peered down at the creature milling around on the table and noticed something bulging from within him as if something was trying to poke out near its tail end. Dustin frowned at it and as they all leaned in for a closer look Mike pulled the desk lamp around to get a brighter view. As soon as the light touched the creature it screeched in pain and scrambled over the cords attached to Dustin's ghost trap and right off the table.

Dustin quickly stretched out his hands and caught D'Artagnan, exclaiming softly, "Whoa."

The creature chittered at him and Dustin smiled as he cooed softly, "It's okay, it's okay. I got you, little guy. I know you don't like that. It's okay."

Lucas squinted his eyes with incredulity as he watched Dustin baby the creature.

"And there's another thing," Dustin glanced up at the others. "Reptiles, they're cold-blooded. Ectothermic, right? They love heat, the sun. Dart hates it. It hurts him."

"So, if he's not a pollywog or a reptile…" said Lucas slowly.

"Then I've discovered a new species," Dustin stated with glee. He smiled back down at Dart and ran a finger gently down its back and tail as Will watched disconcerted.

Unbidden, a memory from Christmas Eve last year came to Will in which he had coughed up slimy matter into his bathroom sink. He remembered how it slid down the faucet, perhaps even slithering. And then he remembered the sight of the Upside Down as he had seen it just the night before, when he had heard that strange noise. Like some sort of animal warbling all around him. Listening to the small chittering of the creature in Dustin's hand he realized it had a very similar sound. A ringing bell resonated over the loudspeakers and Will leapt as he was jerked from his thoughts. They all jumped up to gather their things and head off to their afternoon classes.

As they poured out of the AV room Lucas told Dustin, "We gotta show him to Mr. Clarke."

"No," Dustin protested. "What if he steals my discovery?"

"He's not gonna steal your discovery," Mike rolled his eyes.

"You know I'm thinking about calling it _Dustonious pollywogus_. What do you think?" he asked Max with a grin as she fell into step beside him.

"I think you're an idiot," she smirked.

"You know when I become rich and famous for this one day, don't come crawling back, saying, 'Oh my God, Dustin, I'm so sorry for being mean to you back in eighth grade. Oh my God'," Dustin mocked.

Behind them Will followed slowly, lost in anxious thoughts about D'Artagnan the pollywog.

* * *

At Melvard's General store, Joyce pulled out a few cash bills as she paid a customer his change and told him with a smile, "Have a nice day."

"Thank you," the man replied. The tall man walked away, and Joyce smiled at the next man in line who happened to be Bob.

He held up two paper lunch bags and asked, "Baloney?"

Joyce smiled and joined him for lunch in the parking lot.

"Last night was fun," he told her as they enjoyed their sandwiches.

"Mm-hmm," Joyce mumbled as she chewed her food.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped anything."

"No! No, you didn't," Joyce told him quickly.

"Okay. I mean," Bob said meekly. "I j-I like you so much. Not just you, everything that comes with you. Your family, your boys. And I hope it's not wishful thinking, but...I kinda feel like l'm breaking through with them. I mean, not so much Jonathan. He's a tough cookie to crack, but…" (Joyce grimaced a little amused, a little embarrassed by her teenage son.) "With Will, I don't know, I feel like we're connecting."

"He likes you too," Joyce told him earnestly.

"Yeah?" Bob asked, pleased.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled around the bite she had just taken. "I can tell."

"Good." Bob reached down and lifted up a can of soda, popping open the tab. "Oh, there was...something else I was gonna mention, but...it's not a big deal at all, but...I just noticed this morning that my JVC was a little dinged up."

"You're what?" Joyce asked, lost.

"The video camera."

"Oh."

'Yeah. It still works fine and everything. I just...I went back and watched the tape...and there were some older kids picking on Will."

"What?" blinked Joyce dangerously.

"They scared him," he told her.

"Who were they?" she demanded to know. "Were they the Zimmerman brothers again?"

"Um, I don't know," he admitted, uncertainly. "They were wearing masks or sort of makeup and...maybe. They were the right age."

"I'll kill them," Joyce declared in a low, furious voice. "I swear to God, I will...I will kill them."

"That's what I love about you. You punch back," Bob said admiringly and she looked back at him almost sheepishly. He chuckled and stared down at the pavement. "I was never really one to put up a fight. I struggled a lot like Will when I was a kid. With bullies."

He sighed, feeling weary and enraged all at once. "It's the ones like us, that don't punch back, that people really take advantage of, you know? They rub your nose in it, just a little bit more. I don't know why they do that. Maybe it makes them feel powerful. I don't know."

Joyce watched him. She had never known about his struggles in school and she felt half-ashamed that she had not noticed more.

"But, hey, look at me now," he gazed over at her. "I get to date Joyce Byers. Ha! Are you kidding me? I get to date…"

She gave a small giggle as he mouthed her name in ecstasy.

"See," he said happily. "It all works out in the end, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does," she nodded, smiling brightly at him. She suddenly felt far younger and attractive.

He leaned forward and kissed her and they returned to their lunch. But as they moved to other topics of discussion Joyce's mind returned to that tape and of the boys teasing her son. Maybe Will wasn't the kind to fight back, but she as hell was.

* * *

"Grass, crops, trees. Everything in this area is either dead or dying, and that's a radius of over three miles. And it all leads back to here."

Hopper pointed at the small rectangle representing Hawkins lab on the map which he had laid flat across Owens' desk.

"See, these patterns here are really pretty," Owens said sardonically, waving his hand over the map. "I like the design. It's almost psychedelic."

"This is a joke to you, huh?" Hopper rolled his eyes in aggravation, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"No, it's not a joke. I just...I real-I don't understand what this has to do with me, Chief Hopper," Owens said more seriously.

"Whatever is happening is spreading from this place, from this lab," Hopper said distinctly.

"That's impossible. It's...the last burn it was-it was two days ago," Owens dismissed as he walked around to his desk chair. "It's contained."

"What if there's a leak?"

"A leak?" he chuckled amused.

"I don't know, man. You're the scientist!" Hopper's voice rose in frustrated self-defense.

"Exactly. And I'm telling ya there's nothing to worry about."

"Convince me," Hopper demanded.

"Convince you?" asked Owens, incredulously.

Hopper stood, towering over Owens' desk. "Yeah. You and your egghead friends go out there to every area on this map and you run your tests, or whatever the hell it is you do, and you see if anything comes up."

Owens gave a wheezy laugh. "Alright, so...so you're...you're giving me orders now?" He shook his head and said with an edge to his voice, "No."

"I keep things nice and quiet for you…" Hopper glared dangerously.

"Mmm-hmm."

"...and you keep your shit out of my town. That is the deal. I have done my part, now you do yours." Hopper shoved the map at Owens and said again in a low, threatening voice, "Convince me."

* * *

As Nancy sat atop the hood of Jonathan's car during lunch, she questioned him about the night before, "So, he asked you to take me home?"

"Yeah. Yeah he was upset. I mean, he was… he was really upset. But he was still worried about you," Jonathan said quickly as Nancy peered at the ground looking miserable. "Hey. You need to cut yourself some slack, okay? You know, people say stupid things when they're wasted. You know, things they don't mean."

"Yeah, but that's the thing. What if I did mean it?" The words burst out from her. "All this time, I've been trying so hard to pretend like everything's fine, but it's not. I...I feel like there's this...I don't know, like this…"

"Like there's this weight you're carrying around with you," Jonathan finished, watching her knowingly. "All the time. I feel it, too."

"Yeah, but it's different for you. Will came home."

"Yeah. Yeah he did. But you know, he's not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but," he sighed, tiredly. "I don't know. I mean, maybe...maybe things just can't go back to the way they were."

Nancy's eyebrows rose with incredulity at the quiet, matter-of-fact way in which Jonathan had said the very thing that had been boiling in her all year.

"Doesn't that make you mad?" she asked in frustration.

"Mad?"

'Yeah, that those...those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just-they just get away with it."

"The people responsible for this...they're dead," he told her.

"Do you really believe that?" she asked fiercely.

Jonathan looked away unable to deny that he didn't. Nancy laid off him and her eyes wandered around to the other high schoolers when she noticed a boy sitting at a picnic table and wearing headphones press play on his Walkman as he prepared to eat his lunch. It was so loud she could hear it from where she sat. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. A dangerous and thrilling idea.

"Your mom's boyfriend. He works at RadioShack, right?" she asked Jonathan.

"Yeah. But why?" he replied uncertainly. He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head. "What are you thinking?"

Surprising him as she always did, she asked, "Do you wanna skip fourth period?"

* * *

As Eleven neared the edge of the woods she heard a woman's laugh.

"Isn't this fun?" she laughed again.

El followed the sounds until she spotted a woman pushing a young child on a swing-set in her backyard.

"Pump your feet," she told the small child, who couldn't be much older than three years of age.

Eleven watched the young mother with her child for some time almost forgetting what she had set out to do.

* * *

_El lay in bed, listening in silence as Hopper read the book, _Anne of Green Gables_, from the chair beside her._

_"'I would feel so sad if I thought I was a disappointment to her...because she didn't live long after that, you see. She died of a fever when I was just three months old. I do wish she'd lived long enough for me to remember calling her mother. I think it would be so sweet to say 'mother'.'"_

_"Do I have a mother?" El asked abruptly._

_Hopper paused, slightly taken aback by her question. "Yeah, of course you have a mother. You couldn't really be born without one."_

_"Where is she?" she asked him._

_"She...she's not around anymore," Hopper told her hesitantly._

_"Gone?" croaked El, emotionally._

_"Yeah," he said gently. He watched as tears welled up in her eyes and she seemed to struggle with a wave of grief for the mother she would never know. "I'm sorry about that, kid."_

_He continued to watch her momentarily wanting to say something more to comfort her, to reverse the pain he had caused. But instead he turned back to the book and continued reading as Eleven wiped the tears from her cheeks._

_"'And, uh, father died four days afterward from fever, too. That left me an orphan and folks were at their wits' end, so Mrs. Thomas said to me, what to do with me. You see, nobody wanted me even then. It seems to be my fate.'"_

* * *

"Is your mom here? Sweetie."

Broken out of her memories Eleven suddenly realized that the young mother had ventured over and was now standing a few feet from her. She held her daughter's small hand and was gazing at El with much concern.

"School," said El. "Where is school?"

"The school? It's uh...it's about a mile that way," she pointed to her left and Eleven peered in that direction. "At least. Where are your parents?"

Though the woman seemed nice and Eleven thought her pretty she did not want to be asked any more questions. She focused her mind on the swingset behind the woman and her daughter.

"Look, Mommy, look," exclaimed the little girl as the creaking and rattling of metal chains grabbed her attention.

The woman turned and saw to her astonishment that the swing her daughter had just been on was looping wildly around the bar it was attached to over and over again until the swing coiled as much as it could and the swing-set gave a powerful wobble. She quickly turned back around in alarm but the girl she had been talking to was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

After work Joyce drove straight home knowing that Will had AV club with his friends that day. She went back to his bedroom and, spotting the video recorder on his dresser, retrieved it and pulled out the tape inside. Thinking to herself how small the tape looked compared to others she had seen, she took it to the living room and placed it into the VHR. She struggled with fitting it in correctly as it didn't seem large enough for the player and whenever she pressed the case closed it wouldn't stay down. Finally, at her wits end she called Bob at RadioShack.

"RadioShack, Bob Newby speaking. How can I help ya?" her boyfriend answered.

"Bob, it's Joyce."

"Hey Joyce, how ya doing?" he replied, pleased, as he examined a wire to a tech device he was repairing.

"Hey, um...I'm trying to watch your video thingy, and the tape, it's...it's tiny. It's like its shrunk," she explained the perplexing situation.

Bob chuckled in amusement, and he shifted the phone to his shoulder so he could utilize both of his hands. "That's 'cause it's a VHS-C, not a VHS. You gotta find the RF-P1U with coaxial cable so you can connect the video ins and outs."

"Bob, English," Joyce intercepted before he could continue.

"Right. Sorry, um…" he thought for a moment of how he could begin to explain so Joyce would understand.

Several minutes later Joyce was still on the phone with Bob, crouched before the TV set as static filled the screen.

"No, yeah, I did the coaxial things in the back, so I...this one just goes into the camera itself?" she fit a cord into a slot on the camera, her telephone held to her ear by her shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly," Bob confirmed over the phone.

Once the cord was plugged in the screen immediately turned to blue.

"It's blue. I think it's working," she said quickly.

As Bob fiddled with a pair of pliers he said, "I was thinking maybe tonight we-"

He cut off when he suddenly heard dial tones over the phone.

"Joyce?"

Back in the Byers' living room Joyce pressed play on the camera and the tape began to play. Bob appeared on screen, dressed as Count Dracula and instructing Jonathan on how to use the camera. "So you hit 'T' to zoom in, and 'W' zooms back out. See? Easy-peasy."

She watched for a moment then pressed the forward button to skip ahead.

The tape squealed as the images on the screen zoomed passed the many houses Will and his friends had visited the night before. As she watched she noticed a few tall figures appear directly in front of the camera and she quickly reversed the tape to see the entire incident. Hitting play she watched as a tall teenage boy in a Halloween mask came around the corner, took notice of Will, and snarled menacingly, "Watch it Zombie boy!"

Another boy dressed as Jason from _Friday the 13th_, mocked, "Trick or treat, freak."

"Boo!" shouted a third boy dressed as a clown.

After the third boy, Will fell to the ground, dropping the camera, and the boys laughed as they left him there, one calling out, "Loser!"

Joyce's eyes closed in pain and anger for her son. After all he had been through, was still going through, he continued to suffer at the cruelty of others.

On the tape Will was calling out anxiously, "Mike! Mike!"

While she watched the recording began to flicker and became staticy, and at first she thought it was because Will had dropped the camera. However, she noticed the static didn't look quite right. It didn't stretch across the screen in thin, long lines or appear formless, but rather it was curved in places, as if a shape was hidden inside. As the video played she hovered her finger over the pause button and when she saw the static again she quickly pressed pause. She ran her fingers over the static lines trying to discern its shape when abruptly she realized what she thought it might look like.

Instantly scrambling to her feet, Joyce ran to the kitchen and opened a drawer. She pulled out a roll of wax paper and tore a large chunk off then grabbed a random crayon from a shelf. She sprinted back to the television and held the wax paper against the screen with one hand. With her right she began to color in the lines of the static image onto the wax paper. When she had finished she examined her messy work, and staring down at the image she had drawn so sloppily, a jolt of horror flowed through her. Dashing to the dining table where she had left the dark drawing Will had lied about, she set her sloppy image beside his neat, detailed work. Despite the lack of artistry on hers, and the blue crayon versus Will's black image, the figures featured in the drawings were identical.

* * *

The final school bell rang and students poured out of Hawkins Middle School, chatting with friends about this and that.

"Will, you coming? Let's go show Mr. Clarke." Mike waited for Will to catch up as Will idled by his locker door, hesitating.

He seemed concerned and anxious, as if he wasn't sure he should say whatever was bothering him. Will closed his locker door and walked slowly over to Mike who asked,"What? What?"

"It's about D'Artagnan," said Will.

Standing before Mr. Clarke's desk Dustin began his presentation, "This is the reason I was late for class."

He set his ghost trap on Mr. Clarke's desk.

"Pretty neat," said Mr. Clarke enthusiastically. "These doors function?"

He examined the contraption, impressed, as Lucas and Max stood waiting anxiously to see his reaction.

"Well, yeah, obviously. But it's not about the trap. It's what's inside," he pronounced mysteriously. "Now, this very well may change your perception of the world."

"Consider my interest piqued," smiled Mr. Clarke.

"Alright, first, let's just clarify that...this is my discovery, not yours," Dustin began.

"Dustin, Jesus! Just show him!" Lucas exclaimed, losing his patience.

"Alright, I'm just trying to clarify-"

"Dustin!" cried Max.

"Okay, fine." Dustin turned back to their teacher but then the classroom door burst open and Mike bolted wildly into the room.

"Stop!" he screamed.

Darting to the teacher's desk, Mike looked up at Mr. Clarke saying, "I'm really sorry, Mr. Clarke. It was just a stupid prank."

He snatched the ghost trap and hugged it tightly to his chest as Dustin demanded, "What the hell you doing?"

"I told him to stop," Mike was saying then, turning to the others he ordered, "We need to go, right now."

"Mike!" yelled Dustin.

"Right now!" Mike bellowed, far more animated and energized than any of his friends had seen him in months.

Hastening after Mike as he ran off with D'Artagnan, Dustin, Lucas, Will and Max left Mr. Clarke looking perplexed and a little disappointed beside his desk.

* * *

Out in the parking lot Billy leaned against his Camaro beside an attractive girl who asked him, "So, is your sister coming or what?"

"Screw it. That little shit can skate home," he declared, and he spat on the ground with a dark look on his face, tossing his cigarette away. He walked around to the driver's seat adding, "And don't call her that."

"What?" the girl asked confused, caught off guard by the venom in his voice.

"Sister," he snapped. "She's not my sister."

Billy climbed into the car, and with far more timidity than she had before, the girl climbed in beside him. Billy started the Camaro and backed out of the parking space wildly. Loud music came on over the radio and the girl sat nervously as he sped them off out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

* * *

Outside of the AV lab Max was pounding on the locked door. "Hello? Hello? Guys, come on. Can I come in yet?"

"No!" Mike shouted from the other side. Max hit the door with the side of her fist in frustration.

From within the room Dustin was saying, "I don't understand."

"What do you not understand?" Mike frowned.

"Will saw something that looked like Dart last year?" Lucas asked.

"Kind of but there was no tail," Will explained.

"But then he heard it yesterday. The exact same sound," Mike said.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Dustin asked Will impatiently.

"I wasn't sure," he admitted.

"So it's a coincidence," Dustin proclaimed.

"Or not," countered Mike. "What if when Will was stuck in the Upside Down, he somehow acquired True Sight?"

"True Sight?" asked Lucas.

"It gives you the power to see into the ethereal plane," Dustin expressed.

Lucas huffed. "Elaborate."

"Maybe these episodes that Will keeps having aren't really flashbacks at all," Mike suggested. "Maybe they're real. Maybe Will can somehow see into the Upside Down."

"So that would mean…" said Lucas slowly.

"Dart is from the Upside Down," Mike stated.

Lucas let out a deep breath. "We have to take him to Hopper."

"I agree," Mike consented.

"No. No way," protested Dustin. "If we take him to Hopper, Dart's as good as dead."

"Maybe he should be."

"How can you say that?" Dustin asked angrily.

"How can you not?" Mike replied disbelievingly. "He's from the Upside Down."

"Maybe," allowed Dustin. "But even if he is, it doesn't automatically mean that he's bad."

"That's like saying just because someone's from the Death Star doesn't make them bad."

"We have a bond," Dustin pleaded in a low voice.

"A bond?" Mike repeated dubiously. "Just because he likes nougat?"

"No, because he trusts me!"

"He trusts you?" doubted Lucas.

"Yes! I promised that I would take care of him."

All of a sudden Dart screeched from within the trap he was contained in and the box jostled on the table violently. Alarmed the boys all backed away. Outside in the hall Max knocked again on the door from where she was crouched beside it on the floor.

"Guys, what's going on? Come on," she called.

No response came and she slouched back against the wall incensed. Then, deciding to take matters into her own hands, she opened up her backpack and pulled a paperclip out of her bag. Straightening the wire she inserted it into the keyhole and began to pick the lock.

Inside the AV lab the boys continued to watch the trap shake on the table when it suddenly flipped onto its side. Quickly, Mike snatched the speaker to the Ham radio and held it up like a club.

Dustin pointed a commanding finger at Mike. "Don't hurt him."

"Only if he attacks," Mike said.

"Just open it already," Lucas told Dustin nervously.

Dustin bit his lip in hesitation, but he grabbed the remote to the trap and watching the doors closely he opened the box. Dart rolled out onto his two legs and tail. In the time since they had seen him since lunch he was very noticeably larger (twice his original size), a dark green rather than pale reddish orange, and bearing a seam along his back.

"Holy shit," uttered Lucas.

As they stared down at Dart, two more legs popped out from within his body, one on either side of his tail, giving him a total of four. Red-tinged fluid spilled out onto the table from the cavities from which the legs had emerged.

Lucas jumped backward and screamed in a high-pitched voice, "Oh, shit!"

Dart screeched back a roar and Mike, throwing all caution to the wind, lunged forward to bludgeon the creature with the microphone.

"No!" Dustin cried and he leapt forward to block the blow.

Dart squealed in fear and scurried off the table in a desperate bid to escape. Sliding and stumbling across the floor, unsteady on his newfound legs, Dart ran toward the door of the room, which at that moment opened as Max succeeded at picking the lock. The creature scuttled past her into the hall.

"Oh shit!" Mike shouted.

All at once the boys ran after the creature pushing and shoving one another as they attempted to reach the door first. Losing their balance, Lucas and Dustin bowled over Max, each of them falling to the floor out in the hallway. Mike leapt over their legs looking up and down the hall for a sign of Dart.

Lucas shouted from the floor, "Where'd he go?"

"What was that?" Max wanted to know.

"Dart!" Mike yelled at her.

"What?" Max was appalled.

"You let him escape!" Mike accused her.

Dustin shoved Mike back. "Why did you attack him?"

Ignoring Dustin, Mike ran off down the hall ordering the others, "Come on."

"Don't hurt him. Don't you hurt him!" Dustin bellowed after him.

* * *

Karen was just about to enjoy a glass of wine when she noticed Nancy and Jonathan Byers slip past the kitchen toward the stairs. Quickly setting her glass down she called, "Jonathan?"

Nancy and Jonathan came whirling back around the corner and Jonathan stuttered in greeting, "Uh… Mrs. Wheeler."

Karen smiled brightly. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah," he glanced at Nancy who smiled nervously then quickly said, "Uh, w-we have a test tomorrow."

Karen nodded her understanding then, looking at Nancy, she noticed she was holding a red and white striped RadioShack shopping bag.

"Oh, did you go shopping?" she asked pleasantly.

"Oh, uh, yeah. My-my Walkman broke," Nancy lied.

Jonathan scratched the back of his neck in apprehension with a muttered, "Bummer."

Karen moaned in sympathy, "Aw!"

"Anyway, we sh-we should go. It's a-it's a really big test," said Nancy.

"Yeah…" trailed Jonathan awkwardly.

"So…" Nancy waited for her mother to nod her understanding.

"Stressful," Jonathan added.

Nancy nodded. "Very."

Realizing that they were acting too suspiciously Nancy began to nudge Jonathan toward the stairs and he quickly said, "Bye, Mrs. Wheeler."

"Bye! It's good to see you," Karen said with a smile.

Once upstairs Nancy and Jonathan prepared to put their plan into action. Hugging himself anxiously, Jonathan asked, "Okay, are you sure about this?"

"No," she admitted.

She gazed up at him from her seat on the bed. A moment passed and then she turned and grabbed her phone, housing and all, and placed it on the mattress before her. Jonathan sat beside her as she picked up the handset and dialed a phone number she knew well.

Marsha Holland was sitting on her couch reading a book when the telephone on the end table beside her rang. She put her book down and answered.

"Hello. Marsha speaking." When no reply came she said again, "Hello?"

Nancy stared into Jonathan's eyes, her tongue and throat suddenly seeming stuck and her mind sluggish.

"Hello?" Marsha said over the phone again.

Finally Nancy replied, "Mrs. Holland. Hi, it's um...it's Nancy."

"Nancy?"

"I, uh...I need to tell you something. Something about Barb. About that night, I uh…"

Marsha wrapped her fingers around the cord on the phone as she listened intently, her heart stalling.

"I-I haven't been honest with you," Nancy continued. Jonathan nodded encouragingly to her as she looked up at him and she went on. "But I can't tell you here on the phone."

From within a government recording lab agents sat listening through headsets as Nancy was saying, "Meet me tomorrow, Forrest Hills Park, nine a.m. don't tell anyone. An-and don't call me back here. It's dangerous."

"Nancy, what is this?" Marsha asked in alarm.

"I just need you to trust me. Please," Nancy told her urgently.

With that, she placed the phone back onto its housing, her face scrunched in agony at knowing how shaken Mrs. Holland must be at that moment. However, as she met Jonathan's eyes a calmness washed over her. There was no going back now.

* * *

Out in one of the many dead fields scientists suited up in hazmat gowns inserted large macro-pipettes into the soil. Drawing on the levers they collected samples of the soil as others carried samples of dead fruit and vegetation to lab containers to be taken back to Hawkins lab for testing.

Owens and Hopper were watching the progress of the technicians when Owens said, "Well, you were right about these pumpkins. Some nasty stuff. And the smell…" He chuckled as he scratched his forehead. "Gee, mother of God."

Hopper began, "Alright so what exactly do you think is going on-?"

But Owens interrupted, "Well, I told you what I think. But we'll run the tests, and we'll see what comes up. In the meantime, I just need you to keep the area clear for us. I don't think it'll be more than a day or two."

"What do you want me to tell people?" Hopper asked incredulously, turning to face him.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," he said dismissively. He patted his arm and left Hopper fuming there.

"Hey, Chief, you copy?" piped Powell over the radio.

"Yeah," transmitted Hopper.

"You remember that Russian girl Murray was going on about the other day?" Powell spoke into his radio.

Hopper threw a panicked glance over at Owens. The doctor was opening his car door a few yards from him. Was he close enough to have heard?

"Yeah, well, now I'm thinking he's not so crazy after all," Powell admitted into his radio as he glanced over at where the young mother who had spoken with Eleven was holding her daughter while giving a report to Callahan.

"Stay where you are. Do not move," Hopper demanded and he quickly climbed into his truck and sped away, Owens staring after him in interest.

* * *

Outside of Hawkins Middle School the last school bus set off as Eleven stepped out from the woods into a clearing, gazing at the building where she had experienced such thrills and terror. Running up the sidewalk she came to a stop at the bike rack where she found three very familiar bikes. She stared at Mike's, remembering all the times she had ridden on it last year, her hands on his shoulders or wrapped around his waist. She walked forward and placed a hand on one of the handles feeling tears brim at the edges of her eyes. She was closer to him than she had been all year. Looking up at the school a look of determination stole over her and she headed inside.

Within the building Mike turned around a corner and paced quickly past a couple of students headed home his radio clutched in his hand.

Holding it up to his face he transmitted, "East is clear. No sign of Dart."

Making his way up the stairs to the second floor, Mike muttered aloud, "Where'd you go you little bastard?"

He bypassed a cross section of hallway continuing straight just as Eleven came to the same cross section from the other end of the building. She caught sight of movement in the peripheral of her eye and turning in his direction she walked down the shorter hall to the spot he had just passed. But after looking left and then right she chose to go back down the steps from where he had come, heading in the opposite direction of the one she searched for.

On the lower floor Dustin too searched through the halls, his headset sitting over his cap. He passed Mr. Clarke as the teacher left for the day. He grinned and gave him a two finger salute and received a solemn salute in return. Continuing on he transmitted, "West is clear, too. Will?"

"South is clear," Will announced, backing out of a classroom. "Lucas? Anything?"

Lucas, coming to the last classroom in the wing he searched, leapt up and kicked the door hard. As he landed on his feet just within the threshold of the room its sole occupant hollered, "Excuse me! Mr. Sinclair!"

Stammering apologetically he said, "I-I'm so sorry. I-I was looking for study hall. Uh, bye."

Turning away he informed the others, "Nothing here, man."

Mike entered through the gymnasium doors and glanced around the court for a sign of Dart when he noticed the door to the locker rooms swinging shut. With more than a little apprehension, he headed toward the door. He slowly made his way throughout the room. He picked up a mop sitting against the wall and held it out in front of him, ready to defend himself if anything were to attack. He searched along the floor and in each of the cubby slots when suddenly he heard objects clattering on the other side of the cubbies. Taking a deep breath he gathered his courage and leapt around to the other side with a shout.

Max spun around with a cry of shock, her skateboard tucked under her arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded angrily.

"What are you doing? Why are you in here?"

"I'm looking for Dart."

"This is the boy's room."

"Yeah, so?" she said carelessly.

"So you should go home," he told her furiously. He dropped the mop so that the handle clattered to the floor as he turned to leave.

Max stormed after him. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you. How can I hate you? I don't even know you," Mike said dismissively.

"Yeah but you don't want me in your party," she pointed out.

"Correct."

"Why not?" she shouted.

Mike spun around and spat vehemently, "Because you're annoying." And ignoring the hurt look that flashed in her eyes he added, "Also, we don't need another party member. I'm our paladin, Will's our cleric, Dustin's our bard, Lucas is our ranger, El's our mage."

"El? Who's El?" asked Max.

Mike pulled up short as he realized his mistake. "Someone. No one."

"Someone or no one?" she persisted.

"She was in our party a long time ago. She moved away, okay?" he replied impatiently, turning to walk away.

"She was a mage?" Max set her skateboard onto the court and stepped up, gliding past him as she asked. "Well, what could she do? Like, magic tricks or something?"

Then, hopping off her board she suggested, "Well, I could be your zoomer."

"That's not even a real thing," Mike rejected.

"It could be," she hopped back onto her board and glided around him in a smooth circle. "See? Zoomer."

"Mind-blowing," he said dispassionately.

"Come on, you know you're impressed."

Outside the gymnasium, El passed by, weary from her search and beginning to feel as if she were walking in circles. Suddenly, she heard a faint voice saying, "I don't see any tricks. You're just going around in a circle."

"If it's so easy, you try it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know how."

Eleven peered back around the corner at the gymnasium doors. Though she wasn't comprehending what was being said she knew that one of the voices speaking belonged to Mike.

"So then you admit it's kind of impressive."

"I think if I spent, like, all day practicing, I could do that," Mike said.

"I would give you a million bucks if you could."

Slowly, Eleven approached the doors.

"Okay you're making me dizzy. Please just stop."

"I'll stop when I join your party."

"Come on, just stop," griped Mike.

"It's a simple question. Am I in or out?"

Coming to the door Eleven peered through the window and spotted Mike standing at the far end of the court. He had a slight smile on his face and El's heart lurched with joy at the sight of him. It was like a great weight being lifted off her. However, that weight returned in double as her eyes settled on the girl who spun around him on a slim board. The girl was smiling and had red hair and Eleven decided immediately that she did not like her. Watching her, El wanted to wipe the smile off her face and so with a twitch of her head the board the girl stood on jerked out from under her feet. The red-haired girl fell hard to the ground with a painful grunt.

Mike instantly concerned at the hard-sounding impact crouched down beside Max, exclaiming, "Jesus! Are you alright?"

Sore and embarrassed, Max replied, "Yeah, yeah. I think so."

She took his offered hand and Mike helped her back to her feet as he asked, "What happened?"

Eleven watched as he pulled her up, her eyes lingering on his hand clasped around the girl's. Anguished tears began to fill her eyes and she suddenly felt very lonely.

"I don't know. It was like a magnet or something pulling on my board," Max shook her head, her face red and knowing that Mike probably wouldn't believe her. "I know that sounds crazy."

Yet, Mike didn't think it sounded crazy at all. Slowly, he glanced back toward the gym doors where he glimpsed an empty hallway through its windows. Hope brimming inside him he began walking toward the exit, eventually breaking out into a run and bursting into the hall. But there was no one and Mike felt himself deflate in disappointment.

* * *

Joyce paced in her dining room her phone between her ear and shoulder as she held the two drawings in her hands, comparing them again and again.

"Come on, come on, come on!" She griped impatiently as she waited for someone to answer the line.

A secretary answered the phone. "Hawkins Middle, can I help you?"

'Yes, hi Doris. It's Joyce. Uh, Joyce Byers," she replied quickly.

With an annoyed glance at her co-worker Doris pointed at the phone and mouthed 'Joyce.'

"Uh, Will has AV club today. Could you transfer me to Mr. Clarke?"

"Mr. Clarke? Huh. You know what?" Doris said.

"What?" asked Joyce urgently.

"I just saw him leave for the day. Maybe AV was canceled?"

"What?" Joyce repeated, appalled.

"Would you like me to-" But Doris cut off when the line abruptly went dead.

Within seconds, Joyce Byers had grabbed her keys, left her house and climbed into her car, starting it and speeding out of her driveway with no other thought but to get to Will.

* * *

Back at the school Will entered a boys' bathroom. As he walked past the sinks and graffiti-covered walls he heard a low chittering. He slowly followed the sounds to the last stall where he found Dart crouched low in the corner by the toilet, cowering in the shadows.

Carefully, raising his radio he transmitted, "Guys...I found him."

"Where?" came Dustin's reply.

"In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno's," Will informed.

"Copy that," Mike said.

Will stared down at the frightened creature and he felt a pang of pity.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you," he told Dart quietly.

But suddenly Dart tipped his head back and let out a screeching roar that so reminded Will of the roar of the Demogorgon that had hunted him last year.

In horror he dropped his radio and fled out into the hall. Coming to a halt he felt the air grow cold and the lights began to flicker. Soon the hallway became dark, and frozen, with dead vines and flurries floating everywhere. Tendrils of dense black, shadowy smoke slid out from around the corner and he immediately turned and ran in the opposite direction fleeing the shadows. Unable to help himself, he kept glancing over his shoulder terrorized by how fast the shadows were gaining on him. He pumped his arms and willed his legs to go faster. Bursting out the door of the school entrance he ran out into the dead world of the Upside Down.

Back in the bathroom where Dart was hiding, Dustin busted through and wildly searched the stalls one by one until he came upon Dart still crouched in the shadow of the last toilet. He grinned in relief and greeted the small creature, "Hey, buddy."

Dart chittered in response and Dustin bent down holding his hands out.

"Come here. You know I won't hurt you." Dart scuttled forward gratefully and leapt up into his hands. "It's okay. It's just me. You're okay."

Hearing Mike in the distance Dustin spun around in alarm. Glancing down at Dart, he quickly removed his headset and hat, placed him atop his curly hair and covered him with his hat, saying, "Stay low. Keep quiet."

Max, Mike and Lucas burst into the bathroom and Mike asked, "Where's Dart?"

But Dustin merely shook his head with an innocent look on his face and said, "I don't know. Not here."

"What?" said Mike enraged and he began to check the stalls.

"He said by Salerno's right?" fact-checked Max.

"Yeah," Dustin replied nonchalantly. "Maybe Will has him."

Distracted from his search of the stalls Mike turned to peer at Dustin and asked in a serious tone, "Where is Will?'

* * *

As Will ran from the shadows he suddenly thought of Bob and the story from that morning about Mr. Baldo.

"Only this time, I didn't run," Bob had said.

Bob said the nightmares had gone away when he had forced himself to turn and face them. And through his terror Will realized that the nightmare would never be over if he refused to stop running. He would always be haunted by the shadows of his fears. Unless he showed them that he was braver and stronger than them. Just as Bob had done with Mr. Baldo. Will's pace began to slow until eventually his feet came to a stop.

"This time I stood my ground," Bob had told him.

The monster wasn't real. It was just the shadows of his trauma bearing down on him. Trying to sweep him away until there was nothing left of his sanity. Well, he refused to give in without a fight.

Breathing heavily, his heart thundering, Will turned to face the shadows. He willed himself to believe that he was strong and brave. He reminded himself that it was just a nightmare, just a dream. Not real. All in his head.

His breaths came out in shudders and he stood shivering before the monstrous creature as it rose high into the air above the dead version of his school. Though it had no eyes he knew it was looking at him.

He remembered Bob's words. "I said, 'Go away, go away!'"

The Shadow monster stretched a twisting tendril of smoke out toward him and Will began his chant.

"Go away. Go away!" As he screamed his rebuke, the words tore from his lungs. "Go away! Go away! Go away!"

Tears streamed down his face, chills covered his body, his heart pounded and his breath was frozen but he continued to scream with everything that he had. "Go away!"

But rage though he did the tendril continued to reach toward him, a whirling cyclone that encircled and encased him in its violent winds. And before he knew it the shadow flew through him, into every porous opening, filling every part of his mind and body until he didn't know where he began or it ended.

He could see Bob asking him, "Easy-peasy, right?"

He heard is answer, "Easy-peasy."

But he could not reach them. He could not make them understand.

"Just like that," Bob snapped his fingers.

Will did not know who he was, or where he was. There was only the shadow and a black, black world.


End file.
